


Is This The End?

by dshep33



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst(ish), F/F, Ficlet, Fluff (eventually), M/M, Major Character Resurrection, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Post Season 10, SO MUCH FLUFF, SPN - Freeform, Season 11, after all it's like the show right?, multi-chapter, season eleven, slow-burn relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 56
Words: 112,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dshep33/pseuds/dshep33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after 10x23. If I were a script-writer, this would be my season 11.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment! Tell me how you like it or how I can improve! Feedback is paramount!

 

The car jutted forward, only to make it a couple of feet before getting stuck in a pot-hole. Dean tried to dislodge the tire but the ground was soft and incredibly muddy – it was stuck. Before the brothers managed to escape the oncoming cloud of Darkness, it swallowed them completely. Both Dean and Sam covered themselves in an attempt to protect their bodies from the Darkness, even though they knew they were practically powerless against it.

They both sat there, waiting to be killed – either disintegrated, torn apart, possessed by the Darkness or some other unmentionable way – but nothing ever happened. After a minute of sitting there hunched over and eyes shut tight, they looked up and around in bewilderment.

“Dean... Why aren't we dead?” Sam asked his older brother. Outside, the Darkness seemed to float around them like nothing more than black fog. It didn't touch the car, and didn't seem as if it could come anywhere near it.

“I... I dunno, Sam.” Dean replied, as shocked as his brother.

Together, they glanced around the car and tried to find out why they were unharmed. As they looked back behind the impala, they saw a man, more of a boy really, standing there facing away from them. He had his arm outstretched and his hand up, as if he was keeping the Darkness at bay through sheer force of will alone. From his hand extended a nimbus of greenish-gold light that encircled the Impala and blocked the Darkness from converging upon them.

The brothers looked at each other with confusion plain on their faces. Hesitantly, they both opened their doors and climbed out of the car into the circle of light that guarded them. It sounded like they were in the middle of a tornado, if it were on top of a volcano as well. The sound was muted strangely, as if the light that was emanating from the kid was silencing the Darkness as it protected them.

With guns upraised, they approached the teenager cautiously. He seemed oblivious of them but as they slowly crept closer he turned around. Sam blinked and looked at Dean in surprise – the kid looked like Death, but a much younger version of him. They had the same pale skin, dark hair, and chocolate-brown eyes, but the kid in front of them had more pigment in his cheeks, a playful smile on his face, and a generally kinder demeanor than Death ever did.

Before either of them could speak, the boy did. “We need to find a place that is far from here, where it's safer. I can keep this up for a while, but with a building around me it would be easier.”

“Wh–who are you?” Dean asked. He didn't lower his gun, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I'll tell you that when we're not about to be swallowed by the strongest force of evil in the universe, deal?” The kid answered. He had turned around and focused more intently on the Darkness he was keeping back. The circle around the three had shrank a few inches – already it was being slowly crushed by the oppressive shadow.

“We have a sort of safe-house a couple of hours' drive from here that might work.” Sam answered, thinking of the bunker. Dean looked at him with caution – to let some unknown entity into such an important and powerful place was almost always a bad idea.

“Perfect, but I don't think your brother would like for me to be there. You don't know who I am and you don't know if I'm good or evil.” The kid replied. “Unfortunately, we don't have much of a choice. Would you mind telling me where it might be?”

Dean squinted his eyes in distrust, but told him anyway. The kid smiled even bigger, and snapped his fingers. The wall of light around the three disappeared, and so did the Darkness. The brothers looked around, surprised to be back at the bunker's door, the impala still behind them as if they hadn't just traveled a hundred miles or so.

“Better,” the boy said. “At least temporarily.”

Dean raised his gun, still keeping it pointed at the thing's heart. “Now that we're... safe, _who are you_?” He put emphasis on the last three words, barking them out like an order.

“I have lots of names, depending on where you're from. Vishnu, Raava, Hebe, Isis, Yggdrasil, and others. I guess in your language though I'm most commonly called 'Life'.”

“Life? As in Life and Death?” Sam asked.

“Yes. Death is – was – my brother.” Life gave Dean a pointed look. “We coexisted equally, but when Dean killed Death, it made me stronger. He was the only thing that could kill me – besides God of course.”

“And you were protecting us... why?” Sam asked.

“I was originally trapped in the Mark, suppressing its power so it didn't completely overbear its carrier, but once the Mark was destroyed it set me free withthe Darkness. It's always been my job to sustain and protect life in every form.”

“Wait, you were _in_ my arm?” Dean asked, looking disgusted. He looked down at his fore-arm in shock.

“Not really.” Life replied. “The Mark was … kind of a portal to another dimension, I guess. Trapped in that other universe were the Darkness and I, and when the Mark was off your arm, the dimension was destroyed and we were ejected here.” A massive clap of thunder echoed over the horizon where a thin line of black could be seen, like ink spilling out over the world.

“We need to get inside, _now_.” Life said urgently, looking at the portending evil. The brothers agreed, and the three of them quickly ran into the (relatively) safe confines of the bunker.

Once in, Life surveyed the ruined mess the Steins had left with distaste. “I have a feeling this isn't what it normally looks like in here.” He flicked his hand and all of the scattered books, upturned chairs, flipped over tables, shattered lamps and other messes flew around, reassembling themselves until it looked like nothing had ever happened. There was one thing that didn't change though – Castiel's dried blood on the ground where Dean had nearly killed him a few days ago. Seemingly sensing the distortion to the order of the room, Life walked over to it and crouched. The entire building was silent except for the tense breathing of the brothers, the faint hum of electricity coming from the generators, and the gentle _swish_ of Life's jeans.

“This blood doesn't belong to either of you.” He stated. Gingerly, he bent down and touched it with his middle three fingers and sniffed the red dust that came up with them. “It belongs to an angel... Castiel, I believe.”

Dean's eyes widened in shock and forgetfulness. “Oh my God, _Cas_!” he nearly tripped himself climbing down the stairs to get to where his phone sat on the table. With a rush he called the angel, but he didn't answer.

Life looked on with a raised eyebrow, not understanding the situation. “Is there... something wrong?” He asked hesitantly.

Ignoring the question Dean turned to Sam, all thoughts of the primordial entity behind him gone. “Sammy, _where is he_?” He demanded.

“He's in a cellar in town with Crowley and Rowena. I'm sure he's fine, Dean,” but his halfhearted answer didn't convince anyone in the room, even himself.

“You left Cas alone with the King of Hell and his damn _mother?_ ! Sam, _come on!_ ” Dean shouted. He looked extremely worried.

“Would you like me to bring him here?” Life asked. Dean didn't trust the kid – something about him seemed too good to be true. He also looked like an eighteen year old. Dean didn't trust teenagers all that often.

“You can do that?” Dean looked at Life in befuddlement.

“Easily, just give me a moment.” He raised his hand, then stopped. “He is touching someone... the King of Hell. If I bring your angel, I would have to bring him too. Is that okay?” He seemed to direct the answer to Dean alone.

Without hesitation, Dean answered the affirmative. Life smiled jovially and snapped his fingers. Between Sam on the other side of the room, and Dean who was next to Life, Cas and Crowley materialized. Castiel had the demon in a headlock, with an angel's blade pointed at his chest.

“Cas!...Cas? CAS!” Dean shouted. As if on cue, the angel shook his head and released Crowley, who murmured something under his breath and stalked away, straightening his coat.

“What the bloody hell was that about, angel?” The demon asked, turning around to face him. “Are you really weak enough to fall under my _mother's_ charms?” He looked angry, to say the least.

“She bewitched me, I had no choi–” the rest of his sentence was cut off by Dean's embrace, which he clumsily accepted.

Pulling away, Dean punched him square in the jaw. “That's for helping my brother, you jackass. Why didn't you take the Book away?”

“You're welcome.” Cas replied dryly. “And it was the only way to save you, Dean.” He wiped a small amount of blood from his now split lip. “Who's this?” He asked, motioning to Life.

“I'm the embodiment of the life inside of every living thing in the universe.” Lifegrinned.

Ever a beacon of angelic attitude, Castiel's eyes narrowed. “Why do you look like a teenager?”

“This is when humans are the most 'lively', isn't it?” Life answered. “I mean, if my brother was supposed to look like he was near-death, I have to do the opposite, don't I?”

“Your brother... Death?”

“Yeah.”

“Can somebody tell me why on _earth_ I'm here, please?” Crowley butted in, his presence momentarily forgotten.

Life turned a blank look on him, one that made the demon expressly uncomfortable. “Accident,” he said. “Leave if you wish.”

“Nuh-uh. That's not happening.” Sam butted in, giving Crowley a glare that could destroy galaxies.

“What Moose, not satisfied from our last little encounter?” Crowley asked him with a wink.

“Just because you got away from me last time Crowley doesn't mean you will now.” Sam all but shouted back. He raised his favored gun toward the demon, but Crowley just rolled his eyes.

“Will you two knock it off?” Dean called. “We have more pressing matters than Crowley, of all people! For goodness sake he's practically one of us now.”

“What could possibly be more important than me?” Crowley's phony offense was broken by a smile.

“Maybe the thing that brought you here, moron.” Dean replied with a nod toward Life.

Life muttered something indiscernible under his breath. “What do you want to know about me?”

“Just tell us everything,” Sam answered. “Your whole story – how you were created, what your purpose is, how you got here, all of it.”

“Oh brother,” Crowley sighed. “Nothing a demon likes more than a bed-time story.” He looked around the room, seemingly bored.

“You all might want to sit down for this,” Life instructed. “It's a … riveting tale.”

They headed into the command center and sat down at the long table. Dean and Sam sat across from each other, while Castiel sat next to Dean and the King of Hell sat on the end.

Life looked from Dean to Cas and back, a strange look on his face but no comment on his lips. He filed his hypothesis away for more thought – after all, he needed information.

“I,” he started. “Am as old as God himself. He was the first life, and I came into existence as he did. This was back before the universe was created, before anything looked like it does now. When everything was just blackness and dust. After a while of it being only the two of us, God and I got bored and created everything else. From the smallest pebble to the largest star, it's all formed by our hands. We remained with our toys for centuries, but when God found some schematics of mine for archangels, he decided to put them to the test.” He said this and nodded toward Castiel, the closest thing to an Archangel in the room. “But he didn't know how to make them come to life, he didn't know that he could harness my power just as much as he can anything else. I created Michael and Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel with God's help. I brought them to life. God and I decided upon each one's personality – he favored Raphael and Lucifer while I favored Gabriel... and Michael.

After the creation of the Archangels, the Darkness appeared. God and I had fought against it for as long as we've been around, but the ten of us together were more than a match for it.”

“Ten of you?” Sam said. “There should only be six. You, God, Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel. Who are the other four?”

“Leviathan, Behemoth, Colopatiron, and Hadraniel.” Life stated simply.

“Leviathan as in like _Dick Roman_ Leviathan?” Dean asked, incredulous.

“One and the same. She used to be an archangel, but in the fight against the Darkness, she was swallowed up by it. It turned her dark and sinister, twisting one of God's greatest creations into a mutilated monstrosity.”

“What happened to Behemoth and the other two?” Sam asked.

“ _I_ happened to Behemoth.” Life smiled. “He was almost swallowed up by the Darkness as well, but I managed to rescue him. At my touch though, he was warped too. Just like the Darkness turned Leviathan into something evil, the essence of life poured into Behemoth and now he looks and acts like a human, but he's stronger, smarter, and infinitely _older_ than all of you put together. If we can find him, we 'll be that much better off. The other two were the first females, along with Leviathan , destined to elope with Michael and Lucifer and thus create an entire race of Archangels. However, the Darkness swallowed them as well.” Life looked crestfallen, as if the memory was hard for him to resurface. “They weren't as powerful as Leviathan, and not nearly as durable. They were shredded to molecules by the Darkness, and from their deaths was my brother created. The brother _Dean_ just silenced.

After the turning of Leviathan and the first deaths we managed to bind the Darkness into an alternate dimension, one that was completely empty where nothing could be destroyed by it. God, Death, and I decided that since I was the least affected by it I should go in as well, to keep it from swallowing whoever had to guard the entrance and entering this universe.

After I entered the void, God sealed it shut and created what you call the Mark of Cain, although it was first given to Lucifer. Before that, we decided that the carrier should receive immortality, so the Mark could never be destroyed by simple means such as death. That is why you couldn't die, Dean. That is why Death himself couldn't kill you.

This is where my path in this universe ends. I stuck around for a little while, to see the first humans created and to see Lucifer fall and create Lilith, but after that I was trapped fully inside the Mark. Time was measured differently there; it was much slower, like Earth time is slower than Hell's. A day there equaled about ten thousand of Earth's years, but you could feel every second of both slip by.

I fought the Darkness for what felt like eternity, and I was prepared to do so until eternity was over, but then a couple of humans an angel and the damned King of Hell came along and decided to destroy the Mark in the effort to save one soul.” He looked around the room, eyebrows raised. “And now it's like we're at the beginning, even though we're at the end.”

“So how're we going to fight this thing off again? Half of the archangels we know are dead, and the other half are locked in Hell.” Dean asked, leaning forward. His elbows rested on the table and he gazed at Life from under his heavy brow.

“The four of you are going to play an important part in this, I can already tell. And I can afford you some protection, if you'd like.”

“I'll take whatever protection I can get. I'm not really one for getting my ass handed to me by a giant angry cloud.” Crowley smiled as everyone but Life glared at him.

“You're not gonna get any protection, Crowley. As a matter of fact, you're not even going to leave here alive.” Sam spat.

“Sam, give it a rest.” Dean said tiredly. “We're probably going to have to work together with him if we wanna survive this thing.”

“You most certainly will.” Life interjected. “So you might as well get comfortable.” He stood from his chair and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. “This is going to feel _really_ weird.”

At his touch, Sam cringed. “What are you going to do?”

“Give the four of you a seal that'll help defend against the Darkness.” His hand again descended onto Sam's shoulder and as it rested there it glowed green and gold; Life's trademark colors.

The light washed over him in cascading waves and as each rode over Sam's body, he shivered. It was like standing inside of a freezing waterfall – it left him feeling cold but also energized and awake.

“Weird, huh?” Life asked with a knowing smile. Sam nodded and shivered. Life bounced around and did the same to Dean and Cas, but with Crowley he had to do something different.

“You're a demon.” Life pointed out the obvious. “Which means that the light of your soul's been dimmed. I could hard-wire it so it would be as bright as a normal human's again, but you'd lose much of your power. Instead, I'm going to place another type of light inside you that'll do pretty much the same thing as what I did for these three.” As he spoke he balled his glowing hand into a fist, making it look like he was holding a star. Before Crowley could object, he shoved his clenched fist into the King of Hell's sternum. Crowley gasped and shuddered in both shock and pain as Life's magic coursed through him and took hold of his body.

“Unfortunately me doing this kind of traps you inside of this vessel.” Life's voice was weirdly muted over Crowley's unintelligible groans of pain. “On the plus side you won't be able to be exorcized or smitten, unless someone to do a mass-ejection with the demon tablet or something to that effect.” He removed his hand from Crowley's stomach and shook it as if _he_ were the uncomfortable one.

“Now that that's finished, it would be a good idea to safeguard the building so that the Darkness can't destroy _it_ , either.” Life looked around the room, taking in the dimensions of the walls. Dean and Sam watched him with narrowed eyes, but Castiel seemed to be completely comfortable. If anything, the angel seemed almost in awe.

Leaning over to the angel, Dean whispered “Do you trust this guy? He seems a little... too good to be true to me.”

“Yes, I trust him,” the angel responded. “In heaven, before we matured and were used as God's emissaries and warriors, we were told stories about the foundation of the world. Life was one of them, although his story was told to us differently than the way he recounted it.” Cas's eyes never left Life's lean figure, never emptied of that wondrous look. Dean saw where the angel's focus was and sat back in his seat with a huff. Sam could almost _feel_ the jealousy rolling off of his brother.

Life walked away, toward the nearest of the four concrete walls that surrounded them. He placed his hand on it and closed his eyes, feeling for something only _his_ senses could register. After a moment his hand shimmered in magical light, which cascaded over the wall until it blanketed the entire perimeter of the bunker. The process was slow and uneventful, but it was strangely hypnotizing watching the waves of light seep into the concrete. When he was finished, the walls looked no different than before, but the occupants all felt a little safer, a little more secure.

“The light that I pulled up inside of you four will also grant you access through this barrier. Nothing else can get in, no matter what it is. From the smallest spider to even Lucifer or the Darkness, nothing can penetrate this concrete.” Life's eyes fluttered open and he glanced at the four men seated at the table.

“Wonderful. Good to know I still have my own room in this mess.” Crowley muttered, drawing looks from everyone. “If none of you would mind, I have some of my _own_ affairs that require my attention. I'll see you all later.” He smiled at Sam's glare and snapped his fingers, vanishing before their eyes. Their gazes lingered on the spot where the King of Hell had been sitting, but after a few seconds they all moved on.

“Alright, so! Now what? How are we gonna combat this 'Darkness' thing?” Sam asked rhetorically.

“We don't have to worry about fighting it right now,” Life answered. “It's still weak from its time in the Mark, so it's going to draw back and recuperate until it can actually do something.” At their relieved expressions, he also added “that doesn't mean we have any chance to rest, however. If it's going to grow stronger, so should we. We need to find some allies to help us against it.”

“Allies?” Dean scoffed. “Like who? God?” He propped his feet on the table and leaned back with his hands behind his head.

“Actually, yes.” Life answered. “Along with the Archangels. I know Leviathan won't help us, she will only get in the way and she's split into too many bodies to be of any use. But Behemoth will, and Gabriel would do anything for me. Once we find God, Michael, Lucifer and Raphael will do whatever he asks.”

At the mention of Gabriel, Sam looked slightly crestfallen. “Gabriel and Raphael are dead.” Cas said. “Lucifer killed Gabriel during the Apocalypse, and I killed Raphael myself.”

Life looked ponderous, but not upset. “That's inconvenient. I guess God and I will have to bring them back.” At his words, Sam looked up, eyes furrowed.

“You can do that?” He asked.

“I _am_ Life, Sam. I can do pretty much whatever I want.”

Dean had perked up too. He took his hands off his head and his feet of the table, leaning forward until his elbows were on the polished wood and his fingers were laced together. “If you can resurrect archangels that died years ago, what are the chances of you being able to resurrect someone who's only been dead less than a week?”

“That depends on what they are,” Life answered. “If they're a human, than no problem. If it's an angel or a demon, things get trickier. And I don't mess with monsters. Purgatory was an unpleasant place to create, and I imagine it's even less pleasant now that it's full.”

“Oh yeah.” Dean answered. “It sucks. But anyway, ah, yeah, she was a human. She was a close friend of ours, her name was Charlie.”

“Charlie? Her last name is Bradbury, her actual name is Celeste?” Life asked. Dean nodded.

“That shouldn't be an issue. Where's her body?”

“We burned it.” Sam answered.

“That's not too big a deal.” He shrugged. “May I look at some of your memories of her, so I can access her spirit easier? It usually helps to know what it is I'm looking for exactly.”

The three men nodded their assent, and Life placed a hand on Dean's and Castiel's heads. A few seconds later, he walked over to Sam and did the same.

“This should take only a couple of seconds for me to find her.” Life said. He sat down in the chair on the end of the table and placed his hands on the smooth surface palm-down. He sighed gently, and his face relaxed as his focus was drawn to somewhere far distant.

“ _Veniat ad me, veniat ad me Charlie Bradbury, veniat ad me.”_ He chanted. He started low and slow, but as the repititions continued, his voice gradually got stronger and more authoritative.

“What's he saying?” Dean leaned over to Cas until his lips practically touched the angel's ear.

“He's literally _calling_ her. He's saying “come to me, Charlie”.” The angel answered, his eyes never leaving the teenager in front of them. Sam was paying as close attention to him as Cas was, but at the sound of their voices he glanced up in their direction.

Life paused, and his eyes flicked open. They were gold and green again, one solid color with no pupil, iris or whites. He looked angry and stern, much less a teenager than he was a few seconds ago. Glaring up at the ceiling, his hand shot upward until his palm was facing the heavens. With a final call, he shouted “ _Veniat ad me!”_ And a beam of golden light erupted from his hand, disappearing into the roof. The walls shook with supernatural force and the lights flickered dangerously. A couple of books fell off the shelves they were standing on, but after ten seconds of tumult, the room returned to normal.

From the ceiling, a glistering white light descended, surrounded by the gold and green of Life's power. It sank through the air in a twisting, languorous manner until it came to float directly over the table. At first only a spiraling blob of white mist, it gradually contorted until it resembled a human, with arms and legs, and trademark red hair, cut short in a quirky style.

“What the hell is happening?” Charlie's voice echoed around the room like she was talking on a loud speaker. “Why am I here?”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Charlie! Hey, Charlie!” Dean and Sam were both trying to get her attention, but quieted when Life put his hands on their arms.

“I'm resurrecting you,” Life stated simply.

“ You're...? Okay, wow. You boys really pulled a crazy stunt with this one.”

Life looked at Charlie with a quizzical glance. She was still floating over the table momentarily trapped in Life's beam of supportive light. After a few moments, he looked up at her and smiled big. “This might feel a little weird, but it'll be good for you.”

He snapped his fingers and little particles of what looked like dust started to descend from the ceiling around Charlie. They fell on her and through her, sometimes stopping when they touched her skin, sometimes sinking to the table below without any visible pattern. Eventually, the small dust mites accumulated enough so that a faint outline of Charlie could be seen around her spirit, and the outline became steadily more solid. With each passing second she looked more and more human, until the dust stopped settling and the beam of light disappeared.

Charlie landed on the table gently, working her joints back and forth to see how they worked. When she was satisfied, she looked around her at the faces of awe that the three boys were giving her and the smiling face of the kid in front.

“Okay that was like... wicked cool.” She said.

“ There wouldn't happen to be a bedroom that I might be able to temporarily borrow, is there? I would like to be able to rest and gather some strength again before I leave.” Life asked.

“Yeah, we have quite a few bedrooms, let me take you to one.” Sam offered, getting up.

When he had come back from showing the personage a room, he looked at Dean, Cas, and the newly recreated Charlie in happy confusion. The three were talking as if nothing had happened and Charlie hadn't died at all, which made Sam smile. He was glad she was back.

He felt uneasy, though. And by the way his brother was sitting listening to Charlie talk, he could tell Dean wasn't comfortable either. Pulling him aside and down a hallway, Sam looked at his brother with a plethora of emotions on his face; concern, fear, confusion, awe. He was met with a raised eyebrow and a slightly puckered lip from Dean.

“Dean, what...” Sam gulped, gathering his thoughts. “What the hell just happened? First you kill Death, then get nearly electrocuted, and now Death's overly-cheery brother is resurrecting people while the Darkness is out there probably destroying everything. What are we gonna do?”

“I don't know Sam, but I don't know if we can trust this guy.” Dean answered. “He's powerful, but how can we know for sure if he's on our side, you know? We've been screwed over by Gods thinking they were with us before, and I don't want that to happen again.”

“I don't trust him either. Something doesn't add up with him, but I can't tell what. He just doesn't seem... real.”

Dean nodded. “What d'you think about Charlie? She seems... normal.” He glanced at the doorway through which they could still hear Cas and Charlie talking.

“Yeah,  _ seems _ . We'll just have to watch her, see if anything weird happens. Something weird always happens.”

They walk back into the other room  just as Cas and Charlie's conversation lulled into quiet. Dean looked from the angel to the redhead and back, muttered something about needing a beer, and headed to the kitchen. 

“Grab me one, too.” Sam called after him.

Sam looked down in time to catch Castiel staring after Dean with a gentle smile on his face, but as soon as he felt the mortal's eyes on him, it vanished.

 _God those two._ Sam thought as he sat down. _Just friggen' confess to each other already, jeez._

“So, uh, why am I back?” Charlie asked him, interrupting his thoughts.

“Well, that was supposedly the incarnation of “Life”, and he said something about being able to bring people back from the dead. Dean heard him say that and asked if he could do it to you.”

“S'you just... asked? Wow, that's a first. When does a Winchester ever get what they ask for?” Charlie scoffed and raised her eyebrows, glancing around.

Sam mimicked her motions, then looked at Cas. “Do you think this guys the real deal, Cas?”

The angel looked at him. “Yes. The angels taught us much about the Creation, and what he says correlates to most of what we were told. His character also seems to be entirely benevolent as well – usually when someone has an ulterior motive it's easy to see, but I can't sense any evil in him.” Sam didn't look convinced. “We can trust him.”

“If you say so.”

Dean came back from the kitchen as Cas was speaking, carrying drinks for everyone. He sat down next to the angel, even though the seats next to both Charlie and Sam were open, and there were two chairs open on either side of Cas. Passing the drinks out, he looked down the hall toward the bedrooms, wondering after the ancient teenager. “I don't know about that.” He answered. “He's too eager to please if you ask me.”

Cas looked at him with a smirk. “We didn't, Dean.” Before Dean could say something sarcastic back, he continued. “So you no longer have the Mark? How do you feel?” with genuine concern on his face.

Never one for the spotlight, Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat when he saw all eyes on him. “I'm fine. Great, actually. Less... angry.”

“Good to know that I didn't die in vain.” Charlie laughed. “I'm guessing you got that email I sent you?” She asked Sam.

“Yeah. It worked great. Rowena used it to crack the Book of the Damned, and got the spell finished.”

“Speaking of the Book, where is it?” Dean asked.

“Rowena has it.” Cas answered. “She trapped Crowley and I and stole it, then bewitched me into almost killing him.” He looked crestfallen.

“Great. The strongest witch in the world with the most dangerous book, the strongest evil in the universe tearing everything apart, a mysterious teenager asleep in our room and Crowley doing God knows what. Not only that but apparently we're gonna have to deal with the Archangels again.”

“It's not all bad.” Sam countered. “We have Charlie back,” he said smiling. “And we have one of the two most powerful people in the universe under our roof. We have each other, we're all still alive, you don't have the Mark anymore, Crowley sounded occupied with his own stuff, and as far as we know, the Darkness can't hurt us.”

“Thank you Mr. Optimism.” Dean answered with resplendent sarcasm, earning him an exasperated look from his brother.

“I think I'm gonna go take a nap.” Sam said getting up. “It's been a crazy day.”

“Me too.” Dean looked like he was about to pass out on his feet. He swayed slightly, unsteady, and immediately there was a firm hand under his arm, bolstering him up.

“Maybe you need help to your room.” Cas said, awkwardly close.

“Yeah, okay.” Together they trudged off toward Dean's chamber, the man's arm around the angel's shoulders for support.

“I wish those two would just fess up already.” Charlie said nonchalantly. “There's so much sexual tension between them, it's gross.”

“I know. I'm surprised they're not married yet.” Sam answered. “What are you going to do?”

“Watch Game of Thrones or something.” Charlie looked down. “Being dead really helps rejuvenate you. I don't feel tired at all.”

With that, Sam slunk off to his own room. On the way, he stopped by the door Life's room was behind, noting the golden glow coming out from underneath the hard wood. Gingerly, he opened it and poked his head around, only to be blinded by the brightest light he had ever seen.

Life was sitting on the bed bolt upright and seemingly meditating. He radiated incandescent light like he was the beacon of a lighthouse. Once he noticed the open door though, the light in the room returned to a normal state.

“Sorry! What's up Sam?” He asked. Sam shook his head.

“Nothin'. Just... seeing what was happening in here.” He looked around. The room was practically bare – a bed in the center, a dresser to the left and a sink next to the door, just like all the rooms had. “You all comfortable? Need anything?”

“I'm perfect.” Life said with a smile. “Thank you though. Now go take a nap, you look exhausted.” Sam agreed and left.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The following day came and everyone looked better for it. Castiel looked improved now that he had his own grace, and Charlie was all smiles at being alive again. Dean still looked like crap, but at least it wasn't _tired_ crap, and Sam was starving. Life looked like he had aged a couple of years overnight, turning from a seventeen year old to maybe a twenty year old in the space of eight hours.

Settling down in front of Cas at the table with a mug of hot coffee, Dean looked at him. “You look better than you have in a while, Cas. S'that cause of your grace being back?”

The seraph smiled. “Yes. I feel much better as well. More lively.” He said with a sideways glance at Life, who was quietly staring at the angel with open interest.

Life chuckled. “You're still not whole, though.” Leaning forward, he placed his elbows on the table. “There's something... _weak_ about you, for the lack of a better word.”

“I did just get my grace back less than a week ago.” Cas answered. “I'm going to take quite a while to replenish what I lost. And after the Fall, all of the angels have been weaker.”

“The Fall?” Life asked. “The Fall of Adam? That happened millennia ago. You mean to tell me that all angels have been like this since then?”

“No. The angel Metatron kicked all of the angels out of heaven using my grace as part of the spell. What I have now is only a part of it – most of it was used up in order to seal the gates to heaven.”

“You should have said something earlier. I'll fix you for you.” Life smiled at the angel.

“It's... it's fine. I don't need your help. Thank you though.” Cas was too meek to accept the power surge.

“Cas.” Dean said. “You need to be in top shape for what's gonna happen. We need you to be on your game. _I_ need you to be on your game. Please let him heal you.” Now that Dean didn't have the Mark of Cain any longer, he didn't feel the same. He felt more connected to his emotions than he had in a long while, and he didn't hesitate to look at Cas with anything short of worry.

The angel couldn't stand that look for long, and conceded. Life smiled bigger and walked around the massive table to him, telling him to stand up on his way over. Cas stood there facing the young man, still looking slightly down at him. Life placed his hands on Castiel's head and closed his eyes, concentrating. Cas closed his eyes too, but almost immediately they flew back open, changing color as well. They looked like Life's, all green and gold, and the same velvety light shone out of his mouth, too. Dean had flash-backs to when he walked in on Gadreel smiting Kevin, and panic seized him. Cas contorted in agony, and then two shadowy forms of wings lifted up on the wall behind him. They looked threadbare and worn, the ethereal feathers broken and falling out. With a flash of light, they flapped once, coming to rest in the same position they were already in. Now, they looked full, complete, _powerful_. Life removed his hands from Cas's head and opened his eyes as they returned to their normal hazel. Castiel collapsed into his chair, unconscious and Dean's heart raced. He jumped over the table and onto Life, pinning the smaller man on the ground underneath him.

“ _What did you do to him_?” Dean's voice was rough with fear, and his eyes were murderous.

Life looked confused. “I healed him.” He said. “Like you asked me to, remember?” Just then, a hand was on Dean's shoulder and he looked up to see Castiel's smiling face looking down at him. Cas's eyes were a brighter shade of blue than they were moments before, turning from a smokey royal blue to the color of the sky on a clear day.

“You're okay?” Dean asked, dumbstruck.

“I'm fine Dean. Get off of him.” Cas said with a smile.

Life looked disgruntled, but not upset. If anything, he smiled larger. “You two are close.” He looked at Dean with a quizzical expression. “You haven't happened to go to Hell and back, would you?” He asked out of the blue.

“Uh... yeah.” Dean responded.

“And I'm assuming Castiel was the one to bring you out?”

“Yes. I was.” Cas responded. “What of it?”

“That explains a lot.” Life answered. “When an angel pulls a human out of perdition, the angel's grace and the human's soul come into contact. That contact is never fully broken, you two.” He looked at them as if they should know that by now.

“What d'you mean?” Dean asked. Hearing the scuffle, Sam and Charlie had come in to see what was wrong, and had since settled down to listen in avid interest.

Looking at the newcomers, Life smiled. “Your soul and his grace are inseparably connected, Dean. And if you strengthened that connection, it could do you both good.”

“Strengthen it how?” Castiel asked. All eyes were on Life now, making him smile more and more. His cheeriness was starting to bug Dean.

Sitting down, he responded. “Through hours of meditation and brief flashes of physical contact, you two could become much more powerful than either of you are now. You'd need my help in the very beginning to get you started, but after you were done, you'd both be practically indestructible.”

“Indestructibility is nice.” Dean said. “How do we do it?”

“Be careful, Dean. The last time we tried to get something with seemingly no drawbacks it turned you into a demon.” Castiel chided.

“But that was from _Cain_. This is from _Life_.” Dean countered.

“There is _one_ negative thing that will happen if you follow this path.” Life was looking at Dean. “As time will ware on, your soul will gradually become grace. Dean, you will become an angel.”

All jaws in the room dropped. “And how is that a bad thing?”

“If you were to die, you wouldn't have an afterlife. You, like all angels, would simply cease to exist.”

“Oh.” Dean looked contemplative. “What are the good things?”

“There are many. More for you than for Castiel, but it would still benefit you both.” He sat down.

“Before we do this, how do we know you're telling the truth?” Cas asked. “How do we know our existences are linked?”

“Would you like me to show you?” At their consent, Life snapped his fingers and the room darkened. He placed his hand on Dean's and Castiel's heads, then after a ponderous moment did the same to Charlie and Sam. Gradually the room began to brighten. White, green, gold, and blue light all danced around the room. The four colors emanated from each person – white from Castiel, forest green from Dean, gold from Sam and sapphire from Charlie.

“When your eyes are opened, you can see the light that each soul – or grace in your case, Cas – puts off. Generally, the light takes on the color of the person's eyes, which means we'll have to figure out why Sam's is gold instead of brown.” He looked at Sam from across the table.

“That's beside the point, though. Dean, where exactly did Castiel grab you as he was hauling you out of Hell?”

“My arm. Right up next to my shoulder.”

“Show me.”

Dean pulled up his sleeve, and there, over the burn mark of Castiel's hand print, was a nimbus of white light the exact shade of the angel's grace. Dean looked up at Cas in wonder.

“And Cas, would you mind showing us your hands?”

He put them up on the table, palms facing upward. The same shade of green that was glowing off of Dean resonated from them, looking as out of place as the white mark on Dean's shoulder.

“See? You two are connected. And the connection can be strengthened.”

“At the cost of Dean's eternity.” Castiel sounded angry. “We're not doing it. I refuse to.”

“Cas, come on man. It can't be that bad, can it?” Dean sounded vaguely offended.

“You wouldn't know what it's like to be an angel. We don't feel emotion, we don't eat or sleep. We don't get to experience all of the simple joys humans do.”

“You forget that you're merging together, not recreating Dean, Castiel.” Life said. “You see, the benefits of combining soul and grace are nearly immeasurable.”

“What are they then?” There was still an edge to Cas's voice.

“Dean would be able to teleport and smite evil as an angel can. He would also become impervious to poison, fatigue, hunger, old age, and practically everything else that can kill a human. The only thing that would be able to kill him is what can kill you – the blade of an angel. He would, as I said, be practically indestructible.”

“Does Cas get anything out of it?” Dean asked. Life turned to him.

“His grace wouldn't be able to be ripped out like a regular angel's. In that regard, it would become like a soul – it is far more challenging to remove a soul from a body than to remove grace from an angel. His grace would also replenish itself far faster, and his power would be boosted because of the power _your_ soul holds.

The two of you would be able to communicate telepathically, much like the “angel radio” as you call it, but it would only be between the two of you. Over time, you would also gain each other's memories, along with emotions, desires, feelings, and so forth.” At his words, the two looked extremely uncomfortable. “It's practically harmless though. You would still be able to differentiate between what you felt and what the other felt, and act accordingly.”

On the other side of the table, Charlie snorted. Everyone looked at her and Sam, and they were both laughing.

“Is something funny to the two of you?” Dean asked harsher than he meant to.

“Nope, nothing.” Sam answered. He and Charlie exited the room, practically stumbling over each other as they giggled like schoolgirls. Dean glared after them.

“Do you want me to help you with this?” Life asked, drawing Dean's attention again. “In my opinion, the benefits far outweigh the risks.”

“I think we should.” Dean said. Cas was more reluctant, but eventually, after a few minutes of coaxing he agreed as well.“Excellent,” Life smiled genuinely. “We'll start that tomorrow. I think we're all too... shaken up by yesterday still. It would do no good to send your bodies into shock.”

They nodded, and Dean went off to find some food, running into Sam on the way. The younger brother was coming into the command center/dining room, and he asked Castiel if Rowena had said where she might have been going. When the angel answered in the negative, he resorted to looking for a finding and tracking spell through their seemingly endless supply of books.

“Rowena... the witch? Been alive since around 1700? Gave birth to Fergus, who's now that demon Crowley that we had here yesterday?” Life asked.

“Yep, that's the one.” Sam answered, not turning around from where he was looking through a dusty, moth eaten book.

“She's on her way south, to Baton Rouge, I think.” Life answered, as if he might have known.

“How do you know where she is?”

“I know where every living thing in the universe is. After all, I _am_ just a mixture of all of your life forces. If I don't know where you are, I can't keep you alive.”

Sam nodded, thinking. “That could definitely come in handy one of these days.”

“What can?” Dean asked from the doorway to the kitchen. Standing there in nothing but a bathrobe and boxers with another mug of coffee in his hands, he looked like your typical “American dad”.

“Life knows where every living thing in the universe is,” Sam answered. “Does that include undead things, like demons?”

“Yep. Demons, vampires, werewolves, ghouls, Leviathans, Behemoth. Everything but the one person who has more power than I. I know where everything is, _except_ God. The one person we need most.”

“Of course.” Sam said. He shut the book in his hands and placed it back on the shelf. “Well, I'm going to after Rowena, see if I can't get the Book back. Um... Anyone wanna come with me?” He offered, looking around the room.

“I'll go.” Cas and Dean said simultaneously. Dean blushed and Cas looked down at his feet. Charlie, who had just walked into the room to hear the last bit of conversation, bit her lip and tried to suppress a smile, earning a glare from Dean.

“I'm going to stay here, check the news, see if I can't find out anything about what the Darkness is doing. When d'you guys think you'll be back?” She said.

“Couple days, at least. Maybe a week. Depends on if we can't get the Book back or if she screws us over again. What are you going to do, Life?” Saying “Life” still felt weird on Sam's tongue.

“I'm going to begin to scour the earth for God. I can feel his presence vaguely, but it feels similar to the wind. You can tell in what general direction it's coming from, but finding the source is nearly impossible. It would help if I had someone who knows his presence like I do, but all of the Archangels are either dead, trapped, or in hiding.”

“Who's in hiding?” Dean asked.

“Behemoth. I know where he is, but it's a far trip and there's no telling if he'll assist me.”

“Go get him. It's not like he can say no to you.” Dean answered. “Besides, it'll be cool to meet a _nice_ Archangel.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Gabriel was pretty nice, once he stopped being a douche bag.” Sam said.

“That's because he had a crush on you, Sam.” Dean called out. Sam glared at him.

“How are we going to be able to combat Rowena?” Castiel asked no one in particular. “The last time I saw her she bound both me _and_ Crowley. Two mortals aren't going to be much of an issue for her compared to the King of Hell.”

Life snapped his fingers. All three of the boys doubled over suddenly unable to breathe, and Dean spilled his coffee. After a few seconds their lungs regained control and they all glared at the being.

“What the _Hell_ was that?” Dean asked, glaring.

“I made you impervious to most of her magic.” Life responded. “It'll be far harder for her to hex you now.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Put the gun down, Dean. It can't hurt me.”

From behind his back, Dean pulled out the shotgun he was holding and set it on the table. He went back into the kitchen, grumbling about his coffee.

An hour passed, and every male in the bunker had left. Sam and Dean took the impala south, following the same route Rowena took. Castiel zapped himself to her, his intention to slow her down until the other two arrived. Life disappeared in a gentle sparkle of light, going to only God knew where. Finding herself alone, Charlie dug out her tablet and started researching. Soon she got uncomfortable, having the entire bunker to herself. The silence bothered her, and the creepy glow of the lights down the hall didn't do anything to sedate her imagination. She turned on some music from Dean's ipod, listening to a loud song by Metallica and getting to work. After hours of finding nothing, she nodded off in her chair and took a long, nice nap.

 

Castiel found Rowena in a five-star restaurant, enjoying herself as was her wont. Naturally, she left without paying and merely cursed her way out at the end, and when she did he followed her. She led him to a bar run by a small coven of witches, where she went into a back room, a cellar, Cas presumed. He called Dean and alerted the boys of their whereabouts, but they were still hours away and Cas could very well move or even lose the witch by then. Both Cas and Dean knew that, but neither cared – they both secretly only wanted to hear each others voices.

Once Rowena disappeared through the door Castiel walked into the bar, pretending to be a normal human. He succeeded for a while, but eventually the witches noticed something different about him, and they thought he was a demon at first. They tried killing him, but their magics didn't affect him, just as Life said they wouldn't. He smote them all and did so quickly, hurrying through the same door Rowena when through, afraid of losing her since his cover was so obviously blown.

He glanced through the open doorway, down the brightly lit stairs that led to a basement as Cas had guessed. He proceeded cautiously, knowing that if the witch found something that could work on him, he was all the worse off because it was so obvious he was there.

Once he got down low enough to view the room, he was surprised. It looked like a hotel suite, and Rowena looked as if she hadn't even noticed there was something wrong upstairs. She was busy grooming herself in a vanity mirror, oblivious to the angel behind her but she saw him in the reflection and gasped.

“You should not be here!” She said in her thick Scottish accent. “You're supposed to be killing my son!”

“Change of plans.” Castiel's voice was rough with anger. “Give me the Book, Rowena. You can't win this battle anymore.”

“And why on _earth_ would I give you the book?” She looked more offended than anything.

“You could give it to me, or I could take it from you. Either way, I'm not leaving here without it, and you're not leaving with it.”

“You're a cheeky angel.” She smiled. “But no, I'm going to keep it, and you're not going to do anything.” She pulled a hex-bag out of her purse and threw it at him. With quick, natural reflexes he caught it, and before his mind registered what he had in his hands, she shouted something wild and hostile in Latin. After a few seconds of nothing happened, she looked at him in confusion and backed up against the vanity she was in front of.

“How...” she couldn't even finish her sentence.

Cas smiled. “I have a friend.” He tossed the bag onto the queen-sized bed next to him, and started toward her. He stopped when she put her hand up, not by magical force but because _she asked him to_.

“I'll give you the Book under one condition,” she was ready to bargain.

“You don't get to make decisions here, Rowena. Your magic doesn't affect me, and I can kill you. Easily.”

“I guess you'll have to, then.” She chuckled, knowing he couldn't.

Castiel sighed as she called his bluff. Despite being an angel, the witch in front of him was too powerful for him to smite with the Book of the Damned on her side. He looked away, then back at her. “Fine, if I can't make you leave, you'll just stay here until Sam and Dean arrive.” He snapped his fingers and the door upstairs slammed shut, sealing them in the basement of the bar.

Rowena smiled and looked all too comfortable. “Very well,” she sat down on the bed, looking up at him. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

 

Dean and Sam spent most of the car ride in silence, not needing to say anything. Sam was glad that Dean didn't have the Mark of Cain anymore, and Dean was relieved that he had enough courage to be able to kill Death instead of his brother. After a few hours of silence though, they both became restless.

“So what made you decide to kill Death instead of me?” Sam asked. He wasn't surprised, just curious.

Dean shrugged and looked out the side window. “I don't know. Spur of the moment thing, I guess.” Sam nodded, taking it as an answer.

“But he could have helped you.”

“By making me kill my brother? No Sammy. That wouldn't have helped.” He looked ahead once more. “Before I killed Cain that night, he told me something. He said that I was living _his_ life backwards. It would start with a Knight of Hell, like killing them practically was the end for him, then I'd kill Crowley and he said I wouldn't think much of it. Then he said I'd kill Cas and I nearly lost it... But then he said that I'd kill you and I'd become like he was, because that's how he started. By killing his brother.”

Sam blinked, caught unawares.

“I couldn't kill you and just be taken off to some freakin' rock in space because I'd be able to come back, man. And then you'd be dead and Cas would be next and I'd be alone killin' people.”

Soon after, they crossed the border into Louisiana and stopped at a small diner for lunch. They weren't too far from where Cas was, only another hour or so, but they needed to eat to stay energized. Rowena would not go down easy.

 

Life strolled down the balmy sidewalks of Fort Myers, Florida. He knew where he was going, but he wasn't in a rush – the Darkness had receded to points unknown, there was a safe haven for all life somewhere in the world, and he was on track to finding his old friend. Always the optimist, he thought things were looking up. Hell, if the Darkness had let up for an hour when he was stuck in that other universe, he considered it a good day.

Eventually, despite his leisurely pace he reached his destination. A large, clean, cream-colored house at the end of a wide, practically vacant street, it was the typical “Florida” home. Surrounded by a tall wrought-iron fence and gigantic palm trees, with the sound of water gurgling out of a fountain somewhere in the distance it was the epitome of living peacefully and living well.

Unburdened by the tall, ornate gate that loomed over him, he simply blinked and found himself on the other side. Passing through it he could feel that it was heavily enchanted and that it could have kept anything of any lesser power out, but not he. He was too strong to be blocked by a couple of sigils smeared in blood and some magic words.

The prospect of his interest wasn't going to be in the house, he knew. At least, not on a day as perfect as this. Instead, he diverted from the cobblestone path leading to the wide porch and walked around the right of the house, following the sound of the bubbling water. It lead him to a magnificent garden situated next to an orchard that housed practically every type of fruit tree on the planet. The fruits and vegetables were organized in neat rows and stretched for a good hundred yards back.

Wandering up to a pummelo tree, he placed his hand on the bark and sought out the tree's spirit. Once he found it, he kindly asked if he could have one of the large citruses the tree's branches boasted, and of course the tree said yes. He gently removed one and hoisted it in his hands, reveling in the weighted feeling of the giant seed. He also smiled at the thought of new life forming from something that might otherwise be dead, such as the fruit.

As he sat there pondering, he heard a quiet rustle behind him, and a voice deep and strong saying “I hope you asked the tree for that.”

Without turning around, Life responded “Of course I did. Did you think I lost my manners after being thrown into that hole with the Darkness for so long?” He turned and smiled. In front of him was a man, with skin the color of chocolate and eyes as black as a starless night. The man was huge – standing six foot four and looking like he was made entirely of muscle, he didn't look like someone you'd want to make angry. Despite his frightening physical form however, his eyes were gentle, and a small smile tugged at his lips even when he was trying to look serious.

“You can never be too sure, I suppose.” Behemoth said. “I mean after all, look at what happened to my twin. Now she rampages about eating people like it's her job.” He dropped the trowel in his hands and removed the working gloves he was wearing.

“It's good to see you, Behemoth.” Life said. “I trust things haven't been too tumultuous while I was gone?”

“No, nothing really eventful has happened. Sure there was the Apocalypse a few years ago, and the fall of the angels last year, but other than that, the world's working just as you left it.”

“Zeb?” Came a woman's voice from inside the house. “Zebediah, is there someone here?” A lady with honey-colored skin and straight, black hair poked her head out of the glass door that lead to a bright, spacious kitchen. Seeing life she walked outside, eager to meet the stranger.

She met the two men out in the garden where they stood, smiling at each of them as she approached. As she neared she shot a questioning glance at Behemoth, who was apparently “Zebediah”, and he smiled at her, wrapping his arm around her waste and kissing her lightly on her forehead.

“Who's this, honey?” She asked, eyeing Life.

“He's an old friend of mine, dearest.” He looked down at her. “A _very_ old friend.”

“Yeah?” She smiled cheekily. “He doesn't look too old, now does he?” She offered her hand out, smiling. “I'm Cleopatra, but nowadays I go by Chanara.”

“ _The_ Cleopatra?” Life asked. He wasn't shocked, but impressed. “A pleasure to meet you dear. I'm Life. I assume Behemoth or, excuse me, Zebediah,” he said with a smirk, “has told you all about me?”

At his words, her eyes widened in awe. “You... you raised my baby?” She asked him. A hand covered her gaping mouth, but she quickly regained her posture. “Yes he has, yes he has. And some of them are quite... unrealistic honestly, but I guess you can attest to them.” She looked back toward the house. “Care to stay for lunch? We're taking some foodstuffs to the local food bank.”

“I'd be glad to, but I must leave soon afterward.” Life obliged. “And unfortunately, I must take this boy with me.” He motioned toward Behemoth, who suddenly stopped smiling.

“What d'you mean I have to go too?” He asked. He looked worried.

“You know what it must mean if I'm here, Behemoth. If _I'm_ on Earth, so is the Darkness. And you know we'll need all the help we can get if we're going to beat it again.” Life glanced at the horizon, and the color drained from his face. Great clouds of billowing black loomed over the edge of the world. To mortals it would look like a regular thunderstorm, but to those with more experience, the telltale marks of the Darkness screamed _danger_.

“Look, my son! Look at the clouds. He is here. The Darkness is here. We have to fight it back.” Life's voice took on a note of panic, and Cleopatra looked scared.

“I wasn't afraid when that boy Julius asked me for my Egypt. I wasn't afraid when I had to go into hiding after I broke free from that palace when they realized I don't age, and I sure as _hell_ am not afraid now.” She said, her voiced edged with steel. “Whatever you need, I'll give it to ya. Whatever it takes to get rid of this _thing_.”

“Thank you, but I only require one thing.” Life looked from her to Behemoth and back, a look of permission on his face.

Cleopatra pinched Behemoth's butt, and nodded at Life. “Your uncle's callin' you, babe. You better go with him.” Tears pooled at the edge of her eyes, but Behemoth wouldn't break away.

“I'm not leaving you. Not this time.” He looked stern and unyielding, but when he saw her first tears fell, he broke. “Baby, no.”

“You have to. And y'all best come back to me, or I will find your body and kill you myself if you don't.” She smiled apologetically at Life, who did the same in return. He knew it was a bitter thing he had to do, but it _had_ to be done.

“Have you safeguarded her from its power?” Life asked Behemoth. “If not, I know of a building where she'll be safe that we can send her to. For the time being.”

Behemoth nodded. “I gave her some wards, but I'm not sure how long they'll last. We've been laying them on for millennia, but only you can really know how strong the Darkness is. I think it'd be good to send her wherever it is you want.”

“It's a bunker, in Kansas. You'll be safe and you'll have company for a while.” Life looked at Cleopatra with anguish on his face, but she nodded. With a snap of his fingers, she was gone.

“What d'you need?” Behemoth asked.

“We need to find your father.” The cloud of black swarmed closer – in a few minutes it would blot out the sun and overtake them. “You go, and begin the search. I'll deal with this for now.” Life turned from Behemoth to the oncoming storm. He blinked and his eyes turned their characteristic greenish-gold, and then he vanished. No sooner had he disappeared than a hurricane-force wind spring up behind Behemoth, leading toward the center of the great black clouds. The wind was strong enough to cause many of his trees to bend and sway violently. He knew he couldn't do anything for them though, and with one last mourning look at his home, he teleported away to safer harbors.

 

Back at the bunker, a knock startled Charlie from her nap, causing her to drop the book that had fallen onto her chest. She yawned and looked around in confusion, not knowing where the sound came from at first. After the second knock, her eyes widened in surprise. She grabbed one of the loaded pistols that just sat around on random surfaces and crept toward the door, the gun pointed in front of her in defense. She flung the door open and raised the firearm, prepared for some sort of attack, and was surprised (not too unpleasantly) to see a tall, elegant black girl standing in front of her.

“Who are you?” Charlie asked bluntly. The girl smiled.

“I'm Cleopatra. Life sent me here... although I'm not too sure where here might be.” She stuck her hand out for a shake, but when she saw the gun she pursed her lips and lowered it.

“Life sent you here?” Charlie blinked. “We just barely found out he existed two days ago and now he's telling everyone where our bunker is?” She looked around, exasperated, then waved Cleopatra in. “Guess I have no choice but to let you in, then.”

“Thanks dear.” Cleopatra smiled at her.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Cleopatra. And you are?”

“Charlie. 'S a pretty cool name you got. Cleopatra's one of my idols.”

“Thank you.” Cleopatra said with a glint in her eye. “My father Ptolemy gave me my name. It was my mom's name too.”

“Wait are you _the_ Cleopatra?” Charlie's eyes widened and her head shifted backward.

“You mean the one that turned Egypt into a Roman province and eventually brought down Caesar's demise? One and the same.” She smiled darkly.

“I live for living history lessons.” Charlie watched her in awe. “You are seriously one of the most bad-ass girls in the history of the world.”

“That's sweet. So what is this place?” She looked around at the bunker, impressed and wondrous.

“It's a bunker of the Men of Letters. We use it as like a home base of sorts. It's also got a pretty good library, but it has pretty much nothing on the Darkness.”

“I know pretty much all there is about the Darkness.” Cleopatra said. They were walking into the control room, and sat down at the long table. “At least, what Behemoth has told me of it. And he has no reason to keep information from me.”

“So Life found Behemoth? That's good, I guess.”

Cleopatra looked crestfallen. “Yes, good.”

 

Dean and Sam approached the bar cautiously, ready for a fight. They were surprised when they walked in and found nothing but burnt husks of the witches that stood in Castiel's way.

“Life must've really amped him up.” Sam said. “He didn't just _smite_ these witches.” Dean nodded.

They crept toward the door behind which sat the cellar. Trying the handle and finding it unlocked, the two inched down the stairs silently, listening to Cas and Rowena talking. Castiel sounded tense and strained but Rowena sounded at ease, almost _too_ _much_ at ease.

The boys found her lying on the bed casually, staring up at the ceiling with an arm under her heard for comfort. If she hadn't of been almost four hundred years old, Dean would have thought her attractive, but that thought never even crossed his mind. His eyes didn't even register her full breasts or sleek physique – as a matter of fact after he saw that she was harmless, his attention was completely on the angel standing at the foot of the mattress. Castiel's tan skin held a strange allure to Dean, but he didn't know why. Sure he had _experimented_ with guys when dad had gone missing and Sam was in college, but he never found himself really enjoying it. He didn't know why he was so attracted to the angel, but every time those striking blue eyes glanced at him, he felt a rush of electricity course down his body that made him secretly shiver, and whenever the angel held his gaze it made Dean feel like he was lost at sea.

Rowena glanced up at the two coming down the stairs and rolled her eyes. “Oh good.” She said. “The cavalry's arrived.”

Cas glanced behind him, only registering Dean for a second before his gaze widened to allow Sam to exist. After a brief glance at the younger brother, Cas only looked at Dean. His green eyes were glued to the angel, a million questions swimming just below the still pools of mossy color. To Castiel, Dean's eyes were the color of life, of vitality, of purpose. They were hypnotic and dazzlingly deep, and the angel had learned more about himself in the brief moments he was allowed to look into those depths than he had in the entire course of eternity. Dean's mouth opened in question and Cas's heat lurched in longing.

“You okay Cas?” Dean's deep, gruff voice shook the angel's very foundations, simultaneously lulling him into a stupor of safety as well as inciting him to action.

“I'm fine, Dean. But Rowena doesn't have the Book.”

On the bed, Rowena had sat up and was mindless fiddling with a strand of frayed string that had come loose on the hem of her sleeve. Underneath it though, was a hex bag that she had concocted under the instruction of the Book of the Damned, and she planned to make her escape with it. She saw Sam staring at her and stopped to look up at him.

“That's right lad, I don't have it. At least not with me, and you're not going to get me to spill where it is I put it.”

“Oh we can make you talk.” Sam answered. “Don't think we can't.”

“How're you going to make _me_ talk when you're too busy dealing with _this_?” She flung the bag from her sleeve against the nearby wall, and immediately it started to crumble. Brick after brick fell away into a gaping hole that could easily swallow even Sam standing straight up. Out of the hole stepped none other than Crowley, a disgusted, almost bored look on his face.

“What in the _world_ could the four of you need me for?” He asked. He looked at his mother. “And how did _you_ summon me here against my will?”

Dean groaned, looking from Crowley to Rowena and back. “I thought you wanted him dead?” He stated the phrase as a question rather than a statement.

“I do. But I also want the three of you dead too. So someone's dying here, and it'll only work _for_ me.” She chuckled.

“Is that so, mother?” Crowley asked. “What if the four of us decided to work together and kill you instead?” His head tilted to the right and his eyes squinted in question.

“Oh I doubt that'll happen.” She looked at Castiel and said the same words she did the last time she had seen him. His head jerked forward as he crumpled in pain, then he looked up at the people around him with a feral look in his eyes. He sprung at Dean like some sort of crazed animal, tackling the man to the ground. Dean shoved him off, startled, calling out to Sam for help. The younger, bigger brother joined the wrestle on the ground, pulling the angel off of Dean and throwing him across the room. Cas came back like nothing had happened, still insane with the witch's magic.

Looking at the three before him, Crowley snorted and disappeared. His mother had used him as a distraction.

Rowena took her opportunity and ran for the door, but Dean tackled her in much the same way that Cas had tackled him. “You're not going anywhere, bitch.” He glared down at her as he pulled a syringe out of his jacket pocket. It was full of a weird green liquid that looked like pond water. Witch killing poison.

Rowena flicked her hand and Dean went flying. He crashed into Sam and Cas who were now fencing with an angel blade and a crowbar. The witch chuckled at the site of them pooled together, a tangle of legs, arms, and deadly weapons. She casually walked up the stairs as they disentangled themselves, but when she opened the door, she stopped.

In front of her was a twenty year old man covered in cuts and scrapes, burns and bruises. He was bent over double, wheezing pathetically. With a look of disgust, she pushed past him and left.

Life stumbled down the stairs, smearing blood all over the polished wood. Dean and Sam had pinned down the psychotic angel, but he was close to throwing them off.

“Boys,” Life muttered weakly. He had taken a serious beating from the Darkness. Louder, he shouted. “BOYS.” And the two mortals flew off of the angel, who stood up and pursued them.

Life snapped and Castiel tripped. He landed, seemingly unconscious, but after a few seconds he awoke and his eyes were clear. He stood and muttered apologies, then helped Sam stand since he was closest. He only did so with one hand, but when he helped up Dean he used both and turned him around and around, looking for any fatal wounds.

It wasn't until everyone was staring at him in confusion that he stopped.

After a second of tension, Life collapsed on the ground. Sam rushed over to him and hoisted him into his arms. “What the hell happened to you?” He asked.

“The Darkness... I found Behemoth and convinced him to help, but the Darkness was there too and I had to fight it off. It's regenerating slower than I am though, so it looks even worse than me.” He said with a smirk and a bit of dark humor.

“Let's getcha back to the bunker so you can rest a little bit.” Sam said. He felt like Life was his little brother, which was absurd because he was literally the second oldest being in existence, but something about him drew Sam in, made him protective. Sam looked up at Castiel, who was still silently fawning over Dean.

“Cas, d'you think that you'd be able to take Life back to the bunker? He's pretty beat up and I think it would be better if he wasn't in a car for several hours.” At his words, all three of them looked uncomfortable.

Before the angel could object, Life answered. “I'll be fine. I'm already mending. Is there a garden around here anywhere? Or a very busy public building? The higher concentration of living things around me, the faster I'll heal.”

“There's a vineyard outside of town, would that work?” Dean asked. He and Cas were still very close to each other, and neither seemed to be moving. The man was slightly behind the angel, and casually put a hand on his shoulder.

“Perfect.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

They drove to the vineyard in silence. Dean and Cas sat up front, glancing at each other far more often then either would admit. Sam sat in the back seat with Life's head in his lap, making sure that he was comfortable. It only took about ten minutes to get there, and by that time many of the bruises and burns that lacerated Life's skin had already faded into dull splotches of weirdly colored skin.

They drove into the vineyard's parking lot and all climbed out. Life could stand on his own, and as he walked down the peaceful rows of grapes he sighed in relief. The scratches shrank into nothing, the bruises faded to normal skin. In a matter of minutes he looked whole again, and as he remained there he looked better and better.

The other three soon lost interest in the recuperating entity and strolled off on their own. Dean stood in between Sam and Cas, and all three looked vaguely uncomfortable at the awkward silence that hung around them. It was distressing at first, but as they walked the tension eased into companionship. The late afternoon faded into evening, and the summer monsoons reflected the glow of the setting sun in colors and shades that at any other time would appear out of place. Castiel couldn't take his eyes off of the pinks, blues, oranges, reds, and purples of the clouds. He smiled calmly, turning to face the other two. Dean was looking at him, but as Cas turned around he pretended to look at the sun, too. Either way, the smiles on both of their lips never faltered.

Sam shrugged his shoulders and rolled his neck, trying to ease the tension of the fighting that had happened over an hour ago. He was also trying to find something to distract him from the two embarrassing love-birds gazing into each other's eyes next to him.

Just as Sam thought he might vomit from the sexual tension, Life came from around a corner in the vines and met them.

“It's about damn time.” Sam said. He leaned forward and said low enough that Dean and Cas couldn't hear. “Any longer with these two and I was going to be sick.”

Life smiled at Sam mischievously. “I'll help them out so it won't be as bad.” He whispered back, but Dean and Cas weren't staring at each other anymore – they had registered the new-comer's arrival and had focused on him.

“You ready to go?” Dean looked at Sam, then turned to face Life.

“I am now, yes.” He answered. Together they all headed for the Impala and climbed in, Dean taking the wheel and Sam generously giving Castiel the front seat, deigning instead to sit in the back with Life to find out more about the seemingly young, realistically old kid sitting next to him.

 

They got back to the bunker just after midnight, and Sam and Dean stumbled around in the dark until Dean collapsed on the couch and Sam made it to his room. Neither of the two immortals had to sleep, so they were content to watch a movie with the drowsy man until he passed out.

After the movie, _The Sandlot_ , Life glanced down at the gently snoring Dean and back up at the vigilant angel. His eyebrow quirked upward in a question, but Cas was uncomprehending.

“Shall we leave him here, or are you going to carry him to his bed?” Life asked, a smile teasing his lips.

Cas gulped down some air in embarrassment. “I... I can take him to his room, I suppose.” He stood and hefted Dean into his arms, who grumbled slightly and opened his eyes. Seeing Cas, he smiled and looped his arms around his neck, then fell back to sleep with his head on the angel's shoulder. Life's smile widened.

“You know–” Life began, but before he could finish, Castiel teleported away to Dean's room.

Once there, Cas set Dean down on his bed, gently plying his arms from around his neck. Dean woke again, but he was only half awake and completely unaware of thinking correctly, or else he probably wouldn't have tightened his grip and dragged Castiel onto the fluffy mattress with him. Cas obliged reluctantly, his angelic heart racing and his cheeks filling with color, but Dean didn't notice. He only snuggled up to the angel, wrapping his arms around his waste and his legs around one of Castiel's.

For the first time in his existence, the angel Castiel felt at home.

 

When morning came and the inevitable return to consciousness was upon him, Dean at first didn't do anything. He merely woke up without moving, allowing his body to remain relaxed and calm, listening to the calming sound of the heart beating beneath his head and the chest rising and falling gently as someone breathed in and out –

_Wait, what?_

Dean's eyes shot open and he looked up at the head that crowned the body he was enveloping with his own. He practically flew out of his bed when he realized that it was Cas, wide awake and staring at him with a confused expression.

“Good morning, Dean.” Cas said nonchalantly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Cas, _why are you in my bed_?” Dean demanded. He sounded angry, but he wasn't.

Not at all.

“You fell asleep during the movie last night so I carried you in here,” the angel answered. “But when I went to go back out, you grabbed me and forced me to stay.”

Dean thought for a second, then shook his head. “Nope, that never happened. I don't remember you carrying me here.”

“Well I did. At Life's request. And now I'm here.” He stood up and brushed himself off, not looking Dean in the eye. “Did you sleep well?” He asked again.

“Y... yeah,” Dean answered. “I guess. Better than I normally do at least.” He realized what he said, and color rose in his cheeks. “And Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Please don't say anything.”

“Of course not. It would make you uncomfortable.”

They walked out of Dean's room and into the kitchen, only to find Sam already standing there, drinking a cup of coffee. He smiled into his drink when he saw them coming down the hall, but hid it behind the rim of his glass.

_It's about damn time._

Neither Dean nor Cas acted like anything out of the ordinary happened, but Sam could tell by the awkward tension that was between them that something definitely did. Before it got any worse, he left the room and headed for the Command center, only to find an equally strange scenario in there.  
Standing next to Charlie was a woman Sam had never seen before. She had tan skin and straight black hair, but she had an exotic look to her, like she came from a _very_ distant land. She was talking to Life who seemed to be reassuring her, and it was only then that Sam noticed that she seemed to be crying gently.

“He's alive.” Life said. “I can still sense where he is – he's in Colorado right now, in the coldest part of the Rockies in the state. He'll be here by sundown, okay? Don't worry.”

“Who'll be here by sundown?” Sam asked from the doorway. Behind him, Dean and Cas stood there with equally confused faces.

“Behemoth.” Life answered. “This, boys, is Cleopatra. She looks younger than she is, but I guess anyone who's been alive for several thousand years is better looking than age would allow them to be, huh?”

“Cleopatra? Like married Julius Caesar, had his kid, basically conquered Rome before it even existed Cleopatra?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” She seemed to be getting tired of answering that question. “And I never had Caesar's kid. That was just a ruse and very good acting on a shapeshifter's part.”

“You used a shapeshifter as a slave?” Sam's interest was piqued.

“It owed me a favor.” Was all Cleopatra would say in response.

“That's impressive. How did you get a shapeshifter to do something for you?”

“Saving its child and cutting off its body parts to use as leverage.” Cleopatra shifted her gaze to Life. “Where's the Darkness now? You pushed it out of Florida, but you're not strong enough to kill it. Where'd it go?”

“As of yet, I don't know. It's escaped my senses and I have no way of tracking it down. For right now, we go back to normal and continue with what you've all been doing until it decides to resurface.”

“Great, so... what, like _cases_? Dean asked from the kitchen. He pushed passed Sam and into the central room, sitting down at the table and sipping his coffee. Cas came into the room too, but he hung back next to Sam.

“Yes. Just typical monster hunting for the four of you. Cleo, I'd recommend staying here until Behemoth arrives, then the three of us will go upstairs and see if we can't help Hannah with anything.”

“Who's Hannah?” Cleopatra asked. “And I'm not going back into heaven. The last time I was there that ass Balthazar tried to sell me to a demon in exchange for a magical corn husk. There's only one angel I trust, and he's in Colorado.”

“I know. You forget, I know everything about anything living. But Behemoth is going to come with us, so you'll have someone to defend you.”

“Like he defended me from Balthazar?” She snorted. “Right. No.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

“Plant a garden, hopefully.” She pulled out a bag of seeds from the pocket of her sunflower-colored dress and shook it.

“Where?” Dean asked. “There's nowhere around here that's garden sustainable.”

“You'd be surprised at what I can grow in seemingly impossible environments. After all, that is what caught Behemoth's attention in the first place.” She exited the room, heading to where, only God and Life knew.

“Okay.” Sam said. “I guess we'll just have to find something to keep ourselves busy.” He grabbed his laptop from off the table and sat down with it. It wasn't too hard before he found something – it looked like another wraith case in a mental hospital.

“I still don't get how you find stuff that fast.” Charlie said. “I've been searching for pretty much all of yesterday for _anything_ spooky, but I haven't found a single thing.”

“It just comes with the job.” Sam smiled. “You'll get the hang of it pretty soon.”

Life was sitting next to Charlie's chair on the table and looked up from their conversation at Dean and Cas. “Did you two want to do what I said a couple of days ago? With the whole spirit-bonding thing? We didn't have a chance to yesterday because of Rowena, but if today's available...”

At the mention of Rowena, Dean's face darkened. “I still can't believe we let her get away from us.” He grumbled. “I mean seriously, her magic isn't even supposed to affect us anymore – how did that happen?” As he talked his voice got progressively louder and more animated.

“The circumstances we were in simply didn't work in our favor.” Life answered. “If I hadn't of fought off the Darkness again just before, I would have been able to crush her like an ant, but I was already well worn by the time I found you. And she still has a spell on Castiel, one that still affects him because it was placed on him _before_ I prevented her from casting new hexes on you.”

Dean looked nonplussed. “And what about Crowley? Why'd she bring him there? He didn't even _do_ anything.”

“Who knows, Dean. Let's just calm down and find something to do until something else happens.” Cas said quietly. He moved forward until he was sitting across the table from Dean and Life, next to Charlie.

“What happened yesterday?” The fiery redhead asked.

“We found Rowena just inside of Louisiana and trapped her in a cellar. But things didn't work out quite the way we wanted them to, so she got away. And I guess Life found Behemoth?” Sam explained.

“Yes, and I've sent him out to look for God. I know you didn't have a very fruitful search for him Castiel, but Behemoth knows his presence better, and it will hopefully be easier for him than you.”

The conversation lulled into silence for a few moments, everyone mulling over the catastrophic events of the past four days. Dean and Sam were exhausted, and Charlie was still getting used to the feeling of being _alive_ again, but Cas felt better than ever. Life had done more than to just replenish his grace – he had supercharged it.

After a couple of seconds, Dean looked up at the angel. “Should we do that soul-binding thing?” He asked. He wanted to, but he knew the angel was more hesitant.

After a second of thinking, Cas replied “I think we should – for your safety. It will be easier to fight evil if you're not dying all of the time.”

“You make it sound like it happens a lot,” Dean said, mildly offended.

“Dean, there's only one person who's died more than me,” Cas answered. “Not even Sam can challenge that.”

Ignoring him, Dean turned to Life. “So how do we start this... thing? You said you had to help us in the beginning. What do we do?”

Life's permanent smile widened slightly. “Let's get some chairs.”


	6. Chapter 6

They got two chairs and sat them facing each other, their feet only separated with enough room for Dean and Cas to sit comfortably. At Life's instruction, they both took a chair and sat staring at each other.

“Now, Cas put your hands over Dean's burn marks _exactly_ how you did when you pulled him out of Hell.”

Cas extended his hands until they were resting on Dean's arms, over his shirt. Life shook his head in disapproval, and snapped his fingers. Immediately, Dean's shirt was off his back and folded neatly on the table behind him so that Castiel's hands were on his bare skin, making the contact more complete. They were awkwardly close and neither of them would look directly ahead in fear of what would happen if they did. Watching from the other side of the room, Charlie and Sam snickered to themselves. Dean contented himself to giving them death glares.

“Good. I'm going to pull out the light of your soul and grace so you guys can see what's happening, then I'll start the combining process, okay?” When they both nodded their consent, he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. The room went dark, and the two of them started glowing again like they did two days ago. The rich green emanating from Dean and the blinding white that shown off of Cas were in such stark contrast, but they mingled with a strange harmony that belied their inner unity.

As Life kept concentrating, Castiel's hands and Dean's skin underneath them started to glow brighter and brighter until they were both like supernovas surrounded by candles. Cas's grip tightened on Dean's shoulders as the lights increased in strength, until Dean's arms were sore and he had to grip the arms of his chair to resist pushing the angel off of him.

Just before the light and the pain in Dean's arms pushed him over and he shoved Cas off, all feeling vanished from the man. He could still feel the press of Cas's hands into his shoulders, but it no longer hurt. He could still feel the sweat coating his bare chest and back, but it was no longer his. It felt like he was watching a strange movie from inside one of the characters – capable of feeling the sensations, but not registering them as his own. He looked up at Cas, and he could tell the angel felt the same way. Together, they looked at Dean's shoulders and gasped.

The green of Dean's soul and the white of Castiel's grace had combined to make a washed-out, pastel colored sea green. It was perfectly balanced between the grace and the soul, the two colors swimming together into a new color entirely.

Dean looked up at Life, but his eyes widened in surprise. Life's entire body was glowing gently, like there was a lighthouse beacon directly behind him. His eyes were shut, but when Dean looked at him he opened them, and they were glowing with the same golden-green that they did when he was doing something that required intense magic.

Dean's skin started to tingle with heat, but it quickly became a painful burning sensation. It felt like Castiel's hands were burning new scars into his skin, and he unconsciously grunted in pain.

As if on cue, Life's eyes faded and the unnatural glow that bathed the room in the light of the spirits died. Cas released Dean and immeasurable relief pooled into his bosom as he sat back in the chair, instantly exhausted. Cas looked just as beaten.

“That didn't go quite the way I planned,” Life said, appearing worried. “You'll probably need my help at least one more time, in a few days when your bodies recuperate. Until then, it's probably best if you don't touch each other.” Before either could say anything, he left the room in a confused rush.  
“Wait, what do you mean it didn't happen the –” The door closed before Dean could finish.

“Dean put your shirt on, God.” Sam mocked from across the room.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean retorted. He grabbed his shirt anyway.

“Well, that was exciting, but I'm getting bored. Anyone want to go deal with a wraith with me?” Sam slapped his thighs, then stood. “I'm leaving in ten if any of you wanna come.”


	7. Chapter 7

In the end it was the typical three that normally go out for regular hunts – just the brothers and Cas. Life remained behind to strengthen the barrier he put around the bunker, making sure that it was completely impervious to the Darkness, and Charlie just didn't want to go. Cleopatra had vanished (Life knew she was just above ground, planting her garden and magically making things grow).

Life was sitting on the table when Charlie walked through the dining room on her way to the kitchen. He was sitting in a typical meditation position, complete with hands in little circles on his knees and everything.

“What are you doing?” She asked, stopping to stare at him.

Without opening his eyes, he responded “just making the defenses stronger.” His voice was both deep and high at the same time, like there were many people talking all at once into multiple microphones and he was just their speaker. It freaked Charlie out.

“Right. Okay. I'm just gonna make a sandwich or something,” she turned to go, but Life's voice stopped her.

“Charlie,” she turned and looked at him. His eyes were open and clear yet downcast, and his face looked sad. “Do you think it was wrong of me to not tell Dean and Castiel the entire truth about merging their beings?”

Her interest piqued and her defenses on high alert, she went and sat down slowly at the end of the table. “What do you mean, you didn't tell them the whole truth? Is something... bad going to happen?”

“Nothing anyone of consequence deems bad. It's just... it's irreversible. And there are certain... intimate reactions that will come of it.”

“Like what?” Charlie was still hesitant.

“Their souls will inevitably draw toward each other. No matter how far apart they are in the cosmos, they will always be forced together. Even if one of them dies, they will still eventually draw that distance closed. And there will be a certain... affection between the two of them that is unlike any other in the universe.”

“What does that even mean?”

Life looked her in the eye. “They will literally become soul-mates.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows, but she didn't look particularly affected by that news. “I think you'll be fine,” she said after some thought. “They're pretty much already there, anyway. It's not like you changed everything about them.”

“That's why I even brought the ritual up. The only people it can be started by are those who are in love. I just made up the whole “grace connecting to soul when an angel pulls a person out of Hell” thing up to make it less... embarrassing for the two of them.” He smiled wanly.

Charlie took a second to process the information. “When you said it didn't work earlier... why? What do you think is stopping them?”

“Honestly? The only thing I can think of is interference of some sort. There's a third party involved that's preventing them from fully merging at all, but I don't know who it might be. If I had to guess, most of the resilience, the tension, came from Dean. It seems there's some other romantic interest held deep down, so that no one but he and those who can unconsciously read minds knows that it's there.”

“Well, d'you know who it is?”

“No. I can only catch fragments of her face, and I can't find her name. It starts with an E, I think. Or maybe an L.”

“What does she look like?

“Long brown hair, nearly black, tan skin, thin but not dangerously so.”

“So pretty much any girl Dean's ever hooked up with,” Charlie nodded in frustration. “Great.”

“Would Sam know who it is?”

“Probably.”

“One of us will have to ask him then.”

“And what do we do once we know?” Charlie sounded slightly defeated.

“We sever that connection. It won't be easy, but it's definitely possible.”

“How?”

“There are three different ways – two of them are below all morals and I refuse to do. The first thing we could do, is kill the woman he still might have feelings for. Without the life, the love can't flourish and will thus die, but it would take a very long time before Dean was comfortable enough to release himself again.

The second is to have some sort of tragedy here. Something that would affect Dean so deeply and personally that he has no choice but to either open up to Castiel, or shatter his sanity.

" _Or_ , we could do the only plausible option.”

“Which is?”

“We get him to relax somehow. He's happy – _technically_ – now that he no longer has the Mark of Cain on his arm, but he's not content. He's too tense to be able to release himself, and we need him to let up.”

“You sound like a high-schooler. Like some preppy girl who does nothing but try to hook people up and gossip all day.” Charlie mocked the essence of Life. In a high voice, she said “And now we're gonna make them go out, and then them, and then them...”

Life gave her a reproachful look. “Are you done? Because this is serious business.”

Charlie rolled her eyes and stood, making her way to the kitchen once more. “Yeah, yeah. I guess we're going on vacation once the boys get back, huh? I think Dean's always wanted to go to the beach.”


	8. Chapter 8

Later that day, Behemoth arrived. He initially couldn't find it due to the magical warding, but Life found him in the city close by and escorted him in. Once he entered the force-field that Life had created, the bunker shook perceptibly and the walls momentarily glowed before fading into their regular concrete-gray.

Cleopatra came to meet her angel, thanking God and Life and a list of other super-powers that everyone but Charlie recognized. The redhead thought it slightly strange to see so many people in the bunker that wasn't Sam, Dean, or Castiel, but she figured in the long run it wouldn't be anything detrimental.  
After explaining why there was less of a welcoming party for the last living Archangel that was simultaneously himself and topside, Behemoth left again. He seemed more tense than a mere two days ago, like he was preparing for war or something. Both Life and Cleopatra looked slightly sad at the transformation, but they both knew that it was necessary. He left in order to try to find God again, but before he went, Life gave him new instructions.

“Do you remember when your father put Lucifer in his prison?” Life asked. Behemoth nodded. “Instead of trying to find Him, why don't you try to find that cage? Both Michael and Lucifer are inside of it, so if we free them we'll have an extra bit of power against the Darkness, and finding God will be much easier to do with two more Archangels than just you.”

“Do I have to free those two idiots?” Behemoth smiled at their memory. “They were always so _hostile_ toward one another. It drove us all crazy.”

“Yes, go find them.” Life commanded. “I can feel them somewhere nearby. The cage isn't too far from here – within the same state at least. You should be able to find them within a week.”

Behemoth grumbled incorrigibly, but left anyway. Right after he left, Charlie got a call. It was Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” Charlie spoke into her phone. “What's up?”

She paused for a minute, than spoke again. “There's _three_ wraiths? Damn, dude. You guys okay?”

Another pause.

“Yeah, I can come if you want me to. Oh, both of us? Uh... sure, I guess. I can't see why not.”

Turning to Life, she asked “how affective would you be against wraiths?”

Life looked at her like she was telling a joke. “Wraiths? I've never had the misfortune of having to exterminate one myself, but I'm sure they're nothing the third most powerful thing in all of creation can't handle.”

Twenty minutes later, they were standing outside of a motel room in Beatrice, Nebraska, knocking on door number twelve and waiting for the three inside to answer. After a second or two of waiting, Dean opened the door revealing himself and his brother.

“Where's Cas?” Charlie asked, looking around the room.

“He had to go. Heaven called, Hannah said that she needed him to hunt down one last rogue angel. I thought they were done with that, but I guess she found a sneaky one.” Dean looked pained; worried, almost.

“I'm sure he'll be fine,” Charlie consoled him. He didn't look very consoled.

“Yeah,” suddenly his demeanor changed, as if he was eager to change the subject. “So about these wraiths. D'you think you can take'em out pretty easy?” He turned his attention to Life, who had sat down on one of the beds next to Charlie.

“I assume so. I've never actually _fought_ anything other than the Darkness and a couple of Leviathans. Are they anything like either of those?”

Dean smiled. “Nowhere close.”

After a night of awkward sleeping arrangements and uncomfortable people, they set out to the mental ward. On their way there, a thought crossed Charlie's mind.

“How did you guys figure out there were three if you haven't even been inside yet?”

“Before Cas had to leave, he did some snooping. Since he got his mojo back, he just popped in and back out. He obviously couldn't just _kill_ them and leave because that'd get the feds involved and we don't need that.” Whenever Cas was brought up, only Dean would speak, and it had gotten to the point where he'd just start to ramble. “Say Life, you wouldn't be able to... you know... find out where he is, would you?” He glanced back into the rear-view mirror of the impala at the practically all-powerful creature behind him. His eyes were clear and piercing, with a mixture of longing and hesitant hope.  
Life closed his eyes and his brow furrowed. After a second he looked up at the pining human and said simply “He's in the Ukraine. I guess Hannah thought to utilize his teleportation abilities fully.”

Dean's jaw dropped. “He's on the other side of the world?” His jaw instantly set and he stared out the windshield with a stony expression.  
_I'm gonna gank that girl one of these days_.

When Dean looked casually back in the mirror again, he was surprised to see Life staring at him with a serious expression.

_No you're not. Not if she doesn't do anything wrong._

Not thinking, Dean spoke. “But what if Cas gets killed?” He glared back at Life through the mirror, but Life's calm demeanor was unshaken. The other two looked at him like he was insane.

“He won't. The seraph he's hunting isn't strong enough to kill him. That particular angel is more of a politician than anything, but Castiel is a warrior. Beleth won't stand a chance. He'll either get imprisoned like Hannah probably wants, or Cas will have no choice but to kill him. Either way, he will return to you.” Dean's eyes relaxed slightly as Life deliberately said “you” instead of “us”.

They rode the rest of the way in relative silence, other than a few snatched conversations about the wraiths. Life tried to gain as much information about them as he could before they arrived at the gloomy-looking building, and as they pulled into the parking lot, they came up with a plan.

“I'm not sure if anyone has to go in there other than Life,” Sam said. “I mean, if he can take them out as easily as he thinks, that should be more than enough.”

“We can't just let him go in by himself,” Dean said. “I mean, we came here originally. Shouldn't we be the ones to finish it?” Dean countered. “And besides, we're not really sure if he can do anything about them. He might even just make them stronger. Seriously, who knows? Maybe since neither of them are human they'll just feed off of him until they can't die.”

“Or I could rip the life out of them and turn their bodies into raccoons, then throw them into the garbage bins.” Life said nonchalantly. He didn't like Dean downplaying his power.

“Or that.” Dean answered. “But how would you know where to look? I think at least one of us should go in with you, just to be safe.”

“Who, then, Dean? You?” Sam asked.

“Unless you want to.”

“It might be better if I go. I mean after all, you just got the Mark off your arm, and Charlie was dead until five days ago.”

“But I don't have the Mark anymore, Sam. Like you said, it's off. Why can't I go?” Dean looked unnaturally angry.

“Do these two always do this?” Life asked Charlie quietly in the back seat.

“Not before Dean had the Mark,” came the response. “But even then he didn't argue too much because he knew what would happen if he killed too much. Something must have happened after I died that set him on edge.”

“You two done talking about me like I'm not in the same car?” Dean looked at them.

“I think it would be better if Sam came with me,” Life said in response. Dean turned around.

“Fine. Charlie and I will go back to the hotel and... wait, I guess.”

“You could just go back to the bunker. Life can take us back there when we're done.” Sam said, but by the time he finished Dean was shaking his head.  
“And what'll Cas do when he sees us all missing?” Dean looked at his brother.

“Probably go to the bunker, cause Cas is smart.” Sam looked at him, incredulous at the uncommon anger. “What's gotten into you?”

“Nothing.” Dean grumbled. “I guess we'll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Sam answered.


	9. Chapter 9

Sam and Life entered the complex just like Sam and Dean have in the past. It wasn't too hard to get in – after all, a twenty-year-old claiming to be as old as the universe itself and a thirty-two year-old that's literally been to Hell and back multiple times make quite the psychotic duo.

They were entered into their adjacent rooms just before dinner time, so once they got settled in (as much as they could) they headed to the cafeteria.

Once there they settled down with their plates of mushy sweet potatoes and sad-looking ham, but neither of them had any desire to eat the disgusting food. Instead they looked around, searching for their prey.

It wasn't long until Life gasped in surprise. Discretely nodding in their direction and alerting Sam to their presence, he whispered to the larger man. “Their faces are so... bad. Why are they deteriorating?” The nurse and the two patients that she seemed to be attending hid no horrors from the second most powerful deity in the universe.

Sam shrugged. “Which three are they?” Life pointed them out specifically and Sam nodded in silence. “Well, what's the plan? We gonna try something with silver, or are you just going to... zap them to death?”

“I think... If you had some silver with you, like a ring or something for protection, that you should just relax and play safe. Let all of the fighting fall to me. They can't hurt me, after all.”

“I don't have any silver though. And what time should we do it at? I mean it's not like we can just vaporize them right now in the middle of dinner.”

“I can get you a silver ring. I can get you a ring made exclusively of diamond if you wanted me to.” Life looked at Sam with a finished look. “Give me a minute.”

Life glanced around the room and suddenly, his demeanor changed. His eyes gained a vacant expression, his face went slack and his body relaxed. He looked like some sort of zombie when he got up and started wandering aimlessly around, bumping into people and food stands and other things. When a nurse approached him, he started muttering unintelligibly; the only thing the nurse could really understand was the word “bathroom”.

With Life gone, Sam felt alone and uncomfortable. Here he was, surrounded by vegetables and dementia patients, by himself, waiting for a god-like creature to get him a ring. He didn't have to wait overly long, though. Before the minute Life asked for was up, he was back in his seat and brandishing a silver ring that glowed dully in the panel lights, the little Enochian words carved into the surface radiating a feeling of quiet power.

“That was quick,” Sam said, impressed. “What do the words mean?” He looked closer at the little markings, as if by shortening the distance between the metal and his cornea might somehow help him decipher the language.

“Just some stuff about guarding and protecting. It should prevent you from anything the wraiths might be able to do. You said they had some sort of poison, right?”

“Yeah. It basically makes you go insane. Once when Dean and I tackled our first wraith, we both thought we were literally going crazy. But we weren't – it was just the damn monster.”

“This'll protect you from the poison. The Enochian literally translates to 'no poison or venom, curses or spells'.”

“Convenient.” Sam nodded his approval again.

 

Later that day, when all of the wards were put to sleep and the nurses retired for the night, Life sat on his bed and waited. He waited for the right time to pop into the room next door, get Sam, and be on their way. Sam said that he would knock three times on the paper-thin wall to let Life know when the best time was.

The knock came and he vanished. In the blink of an eye he was standing in front of Sam, who turned around from his reach toward the wall and flinched. Grumbling about never expecting that, he allowed Life to carry him into the hallway.

“The two patients are in rooms 32 A, and 34 B. I think the nurse said something about being in lab 4 tonight, at least from what I heard.” Sam whispered gently. Life nodded.

“If I go to the two disguised as patients, can you manage the nurse?” His crystalline blue eyes were boring into Sam with a look of such concern and intensity, Sam was momentarily dumbstruck.

_Weird. I thought his eyes were brown._

“Yeah. If this ring will guard me like you said, I can take it out no problem.”

“Do you remember which one it is?”

“The black lady. Short hair, totally fake eyebrows. She had a nose ring, right?”

“Yes. It was shaped like a Star of David.” Life looked down to both ends of the hallway, then turned back to Sam. “Be safe.” Then he was gone.  
Sam headed down the hall toward the door. He didn't have any idea how to get to the lab, but the signs overhead that pointed toward every wing of the compound were easy to follow. He avoided the security cameras, ducked behind a trash can as a stray nurse walked down an adjacent hall, and hid in a door way as a lazy security guard shined his flashlight down the ominous hall that Sam was meandering down.

After three wrong turns, two dead-ends, almost walking in on a sleeping patient and avoiding more people than he cared to count, Sam found the lab hallway. All five of the labs were vacant, except the second to last. There was only one nurse in there – the one he was after.

He approached the door silently, crouching low so she didn't see him through the glass walls. He almost made it to the metal handle of the plexiglass door when disaster struck.

 _Disaster_ was actually a foot slamming directly into Sam's face, snapping his head back and making him collapse. Dazed and more than a little in pain, Sam couldn't react when he felt strong hands clasp his back and shove him into the glass to his right, alerting the wraith on the inside.

He fought back, momentarily freeing himself and nailing whoever it was that was attacking him in the face with his fist – the one that had the ring Life got for him. He heard a loud sizzling sound and an even louder cry of anguish, but it wasn't enough. The nurse-wraith had come out of the lab and was carrying what looked like a giant pair of scissors. From her other wrist sprouted her long, shard-like spike that all wraiths had. She came out of the room looking like some crazed barbie-doll with a serious misandry complex.

She was the least of his concerns right now, though. The other two wraiths were right in front of him, the one with a scar across his old, leathery jaw and the other with a look of hunger on her face. The old man had a beer belly and sagging skin, but his decrepit body belied nothing of his actual power. He was as strong, if not stronger, than Sam was, and there were three of them, one of him.

Sam punched the nurse in the face and grabbed her scissors. He knew they wouldn't be able to do anything to the wraiths, but if he had them that meant that _they_ didn't. He had enough to worry about with their supernatural strength and the daggers that extended from their palms.

Just as he caught the shears from hitting the ground, he felt a fist in his gut and a foot on his rear. He was catapulted into the nurse, flipping over in the air from the force of the two simultaneous blows. The shears were lost to him, falling out of his limp grip like a wet fish.

“You hunters are so dumb,” the angry blond behind Sam said. “Always parading about like you own the damn world. Well, news flash, asshat! You don't. We do. You didn't even come in here prepared – all you have is some stupid little ring that won't let us poison you.”

“And that was pretty clever of ya,” the old man next to her said. “Let's you stay yourself. That's real smart, but it's not enough. See, we don't need to dupe you because there's three of us and only one of you.”

“But now you're gonna die,” the nurse underneath Sam was somehow holding the scissors again and raising her hand, she angled them at his face. She lunged down at him, but before the point could do much more as graze his face, he was shot violently backward, out of reach of all three of them and landing in a crumpled, bloody heap on the ground a dozen yards away. Standing next to him was a now-familiar twenty-year old with black hair and piercing green eyes that caught light and reflected it like little moons.

Life walked forward without fear, causing the three wraiths to hesitate. The nurse, obviously the leader, blinked in what looked like recognition. The other two scurried behind her, as if she might somehow stop the god walking toward them.

“You're not real,” was all the woman could muster. “You're just a legend.”

“That's what everyone in here would say of you, too. If they were in their right minds of course.” Life answered. “You _recognize_ me?”

“I only recognize what the stories say you's supposed to look like. Momma Eve said that you were some sort of “benevolent spirit”, but you died a long long time ago.”

“Eve? I remember her. She was pretty, back when she didn't spawn little devils like the three of you. It's a shame she had to die, she was always rather kind to her children.”

“Momma was a good woman.” The blond snapped. The nurse shushed her.

“She protected us, but two hunters like this one killed her. And now we're on our own.”

“It wasn't two _like_ me. It was literally me. And my brother. In a burger joint.” Sam sputtered through a mouthful of blood. This only served to infuriate the three monsters at the other end of the hall.

“Regardless, she's dead now. And the three of you are soon to follow.” Life said. He raised his hand threateningly at them, causing them to cower even more.

“Wait! Please! We didn't do nothin' wrong!” The nurse screamed.

“You've killed people for centuries,” Sam answered. “And you think you haven't done anything wrong?”

“We were just trying to survive.” The old man answered. “You don't think it's wrong to go out and have a burger, do you? Even though that burger was a cow at one point? It's the same for us – you're all just... livestock.”

“Enough.” Life sounded almost bored. “If you stop killing people I'll let you go free, but if you don't...” His beady-black eyes flickered malevolently and horror dawned on all their faces.

“But we gotta,” the blond moped. “We can't eat anything but humans.”

“Life, just kill them.” Sam said, struggling to stand. Looking down, Life touched his forehead and Sam was whole once more. “They've already killed countless people. They don't deserve to live any more than the people they ate did.”

“Yes...” Life contemplated. “But what is life without forgiveness? I can't just mindlessly kill things. That's... against my nature.”

“You're not mindlessly killing, you're avenging. You're saving. Without these three, many more people will be able to live peacefully and not get eaten.” Sam could tell he was fighting a losing battle.

But then Life looked up, his eyes hard and set, his face drawn into a scowl. “You're right, Sam,” was all he said before raising his hand again.

The room was illuminated by a brief flash of blinding golden light, then faded quickly into relative darkness again. Where the three wraiths stood were anything but what Sam was expecting.

In their place grew three potted stalks of corn, their ears large and healthy and their leaves a brilliant green.


	10. Chapter 10

In the darkest part of the night, after the moon had retired and the rising sun was only a prophecy, Life and Sam appeared back in the motel room. Sam was still covered in his own blood even though Life had fixed him up, and the spirit looked upset, yet determined.

Their sudden appearance startled Charlie and Dean. Neither were expecting the two to be back at that exact moment, and Charlie was slowly dosing off. She jerked upright with a fright as they appeared, and Dean stood from his relaxed position on the bed next to her.

“How'd it go?” Dean asked. He noticed the blood on Sam's face.

“Not the way we planned but it worked out nonetheless,” Sam answered. “Life can fill you in, I'm gonna go wash up.” He headed to the bathroom, unbuttoning his plaid green shirt as he went.

“We were going to split up – I take two of the wraiths while Sam dealt with the third – but I think they must've overheard us because they were all waiting for him. I didn't realize until I couldn't feel their presences in their rooms anymore, so I went to your brother and turned the wraiths into corn. When I got to Sam, they were beating him up pretty bad despite me protecting him from their venom, but they seemed to have recognized me and when they did they stopped.”

“You left Sam alone?” Dean's eyebrow quirked upward. “Why? He didn't have any silver with him. They could have killed him.”

“I gave him a silver ring that safe-guarded him from their poison and could hurt them if he hit them. Besides, I can be anywhere in the universe in the blink of an eye. Do you think I would have just ignored him?” Before Dean could respond, Life changed the subject. “Any word from your angel?”

“Cas? He called about an hour after you went in; he said he should be done by tomorrow. We haven't heard anything else from him yet, though.” Dean's lips thinned and he looked away, concern and brittleness plain on his face.

“So, Life,” Sam said, coming from the bathroom. He was clean again and wearing a different shirt – still plaid. “What made you come help us anyway? I mean, for someone so powerful you should be off like... creating new worlds or something right?”

“What do you mean?” Life asked genuinely.

“Like... If Death were still alive he wouldn't have cared about three wraiths in the middle of nowhere. He has bigger things he has to deal with, right? Don't you as well?” He was towel drying his face, but as he finished speaking he threw the towel onto the bed.

“Ah. No, not really. The main purpose of my existence is to assist in the endurance of life. Wherever I can prevent death from happening, I try to do so. Including insignificantly little things such as wraiths.” He smiled. “I'm afraid that I do have some larger things I need to attend to, though. I want to go peruse Heaven, just to make sure everything is running smoothly. Judging by the memories I've listened to since I've been here, it's been through a lot lately.”

“Yes, it has been. And all because of me.” Castiel's deep, gravelly voice drew everyone's attention to the corner of the room closest to the door. He was standing there, disheveled and bleeding from multiple cuts, but he looked sound – at least, until he took a step and his leg collapse underneath him.  
In the blink of an eye, Dean was over him, calling his name and hoisting him up. No one could say how _Dean_ got to the angel first – both Charlie and Life were standing between them, and Life was, after all, _Life_.

“Cas? Cas? Speak to me buddy. You alright?” He was getting more and more... clingy as time went on. From behind them, Charlie suspected it was because of their spirit-bonding.

“I'm fine, Dean.” His voice was gruff and stern, with a certain _quit your worrying_ aspect to it. “The angel Hannah wanted me to deal with was better at fighting than I expected, but we still captured him in the end.”

“Speaking of Hannah, what the _hell_? I thought you guys were done with the whole angel-hunting thing.” Dean's look of concern wasn't leaving his face.

“We thought so too, but we were wrong. This one escaped us, and it's already caused Hannah to doubt. She doesn't know how many others have slipped past her gaze.”

“I can tell you you're not quite done yet, but you're almost there.” Life said. “There are four other angels outside of heaven besides yourself – two here in the States, one in Guam, the other in Sarajevo.”

“Then I have to go find them,” but before Cas could leave, Dean's hands were on him, pinning him in place.

“No, you're coming back to the bunker. Damn it Cas you're not just going to leave... again.” Dean was stern and fierce. The angel's will immediately buckled underneath the intensity of his gaze.

“Fine, but I can't stay for long. I have to find them eventually.” He looked around, noting the amount of people in the little room. “We should leave as soon as possible.”

“Why can't we just wait until morning?” Sam asked. He watched the proceedings with utter confusion. Dean was acting so _strange_. “I mean, there's nothing after us right now, is there? We'll be fine here for the rest of the night, let everyone get at least a few hours of sleep.”

Even as he spoke, Life shook his head. “I can take us all back to the bunker and you can sleep there. With the Darkness in hiding right now, I have no way of knowing where it is. The bunker is the only truly safe place from it.”

Dean rolled his eyes, obviously indifferent but swaying under the bandwagon affect, he submitted. “How're you going to do that, along with the car?”  
Life turned around and looked at him. “Why don't you go get into it and find out?”

 

Less than a minute later, every human along with Castiel was climbing out of the Impala, parked inside of the bunker's garage. Life was standing with his hand on its roof next to the driver's door, but as they appeared there, he made room for Dean to get out.

“Go and rest, the three of you.” Life said as Charlie, Sam, and Dean got out. Obviously, Castiel didn't need to sleep. “I'll see you in the morning.” He turned to go, but Dean stopped him.

“And where are you going?” He asked. He didn't trust Life, even though he'd proven himself already.

 _To save your boyfriend's ass_ , came the response. It was Life's voice in Dean's head – the most private form of communication ever. _The two angels that are in the country are together, and they're both warriors that are just as capable as Castiel. It's literally impossible for anything to succeed when facing double their own strength and intelligence. Unless you want him to die, unhand me._ Life's glare was enough to make Dean's hand relax and slide off his forearm. The entire dialogue took less than a second to transpire.

“I have errands to run. As I told your brother, yes preventing wraiths from eating humans is important, but so is repairing the fine-tuning required to run heaven, resurrecting Archangels, finding God, and stopping the Darkness. Forgive me if I can't be your juggernaut, Dean.”

“Hey, guys, chill out.” Charlie said from the other side of the car. “Dean, this is a good thing, right? Someone with enough man power to actually make a difference is doing something for once. Let's let him do it.” She turned around, and with a final “jeez,” walked inside. Sam followed her, shaking his head.  
Life ignored Castiel's presence and focused on Dean. After a few seconds of silently staring at him, he spoke up.

“Why do you not trust me?” Life asked.

“I don't know, maybe because whenever something good happened, it actually turned out to be a load of crap that's blown up in our faces _every damn time.”_

“Really? So an angel pulling you out of Hell actually turned out to be a bad thing?” He turned and looked at Cas casually, then turned back to Dean. “Killing my brother and saving your own was a bad thing? Imprisoning Metatron, killing Dick Roman, stopping the Apocalypse, all of those were bad things?”

“We did all of those. They weren't done to us.” Dean countered. “Things like the friggen' Mark of Cain, finding the Book of the Damned, almost curing Crowley, trapping Sam in Lucifer's cage, all of those were bad things. And you expect me to believe that you're some power of perfection that only wants to help? Sorry, but this line of work has convinced me that nothing just wants to help. It always wants to help you, then kill you, or worse.”

“That's because you've been dealing with the _younger_ generations.” Life smiled. “You haven't played with me or God yet, have you? You'll see how we older guys work – we're not nasty like our kids are.” The demeanor change through Dean for a loop, and in his split second of confusion, Life vanished.

“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, blinking and shaking his head.

 

It was just after three when Life dropped them off at the bunker, and Dean awoke just before ten. That was late, even for him. _Yikes_.

He climbed out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, and a white shirt over his bare chest. Stepping out into the hallway, he heard idle conversation from the dining room and kitchen, so he made his way there.

He entered to see Cleopatra and Charlie talking about the obvious lack of women in politics and how it wasn't nearly as fair as “everyone” might think, and Cas and Sam talking about the life expectancy and mental illnesses of elephants. For a brief second, a deep sadness threatened to overwhelm him. Everything seemed so _normal_. Friends talking around the kitchen counter, his brother making eggs at the stove, radiant blue eyes turning toward him and smiling ever so slightly as they wished him a good morning.

He was so lost in thought, he almost didn't reply to Cas's welcome. With a hurried “mornin', Cas,” and a weird look at Sam's weird look, he grabbed a cup of coffee and sat down with the girls.

“When I was in Alexandria before Julius ever tried to approach it, the people _fawned_ over me. They said that I was the only one who ever had any sense, and that I was the only one actually fit to rule. Of course, that all changed when I went to Rome. The Romans always were disgustingly misogynistic...” He zoned out again, not caring for politics.

Cas came over and sat next to him, idly looking over a newspaper for any signs of weird happenings that might indicate a case. He pointed one out to Dean about a house spontaneously combusting thinking it might have been a poltergeist, but Dean dismissed it as a gas leak and an idiot with a match after he saw the article.

It wasn't long until everyone's conversation slowly came together on one topic – the Darkness. It was hovering over them like some sort of ironically black cloud looming on the horizon and making them all uneasy. They speculated on what they should, _could_ , do, how they were going to help Life, if he was even trustworthy (Dean's arguments were crushed but his unrelenting mood of foreboding wasn't), and other things. All of them, except Cleopatra, were uncomfortable just sitting back and waiting. They needed to get up and do something, even though they just barely got back from a hunt the night before. Castiel wanted to go find the other rogue angels Life had mentioned, but remembering his warning the night before, Dean wouldn't let the angel out of his sight.

It wasn't long until Life reappeared, hauling four people bound to chairs that were tied together. Four vials tied to strings were in his gentle grip, each one holding a weird, glowing white liquid – the grace of each angel behind him.

“I found your prey, Castiel, but I'm going to deliver them to heaven personally.” Life said. “Hello, everyone.” He smiled genuinely at the group.  
“Why do you want to take them?” Cas asked. “I'm capable of taking them to heaven by myself.”

“I need to see what's going on up there so I was planning a trip anyway. And besides, Hannah never asked you for these four, so they aren't actually in your charge.” He looked at Cleopatra. “I'm taking Behemoth, too. He'll want to return home after so long being down here, won't he?” She nodded.  
“Why haven't we met this Behemoth guy yet, huh?” Dean asked. Life shrugged.

“You would have if you hadn't of gone after those wraiths so quickly. He was here an hour after you left. It doesn't matter, he's on his way here now.” As if on cue, a gentle knock sounded on the thick iron door that allowed access to the outside world. At a snap from Life it swung open on its own, revealing the hulking mass of Behemoth.

“You called for me?” In an instant he was down at the table they were situated around, standing behind Cleopatra and putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“We're going to go to heaven.” Life said in answer, but also to the group at large. “I recommend the five of you rest up. When we get back we're going to be extremely busy.” He turned back to the four bound angels who were silently glaring at them. “Behemoth, if you would help me with these...”

"Wait wait wait,  _This_ is Behemoth?" Dean looked at the massive black man standing behind him, uncomfortable.

"Yes, I am. And you are Dean Winchester." He looked vaguely familiar, but neither Dean nor Sam could place from where.

"You look like Raphael." Cas noted, and immediately Dean and Sam knew why he looked recognizable.

"Well, he was my brother. And so are you. Castiel, the most tumultuous angel of the past millennium. Pleased to meet you." Behemoth smiled warmly. 

"I hate to interrupt the warm welcome, but we must be moving. We don't have much time, remember? The Darkness doesn't sleep."

"And neither do we." Behemoth answered nonchalantly.

The six of them disappeared, leaving behind only Cleopatra, Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Castiel. Dean shook his head, still uncertain of Life's intentions.  
It wasn't long until those who remained trickled off to do their own activities. Charlie went to go catch up on her TV shows out of boredom, Sam went to look up the Darkness and see if he could find anything about it, and Cleopatra went to attend her all-important garden. Eventually it was just Dean and Cas sitting there across from each other in comfortable silence, quietly basking in each others presences.

However much he enjoyed the closeness with the angel, Dean's guilt at how he had left Cas that last day he had the Mark started to gnaw away at him. Every time he blinked, the angel's bloody face would flash through his consciousness until he couldn't even look Cas in the eye. Clearing his throat and leaning forward, he looked at Cas apologetically.

“Hey, Cas, I just wanted to say –” but the angel stopped him short.

“Dean, I know what you're apologizing for. You don't have to. It was the Mark affecting you that day – if it was only your fault, you would have killed me. The fact that you showed restraint is apology enough in itself.” Cas had leaned forward too, mimicking Dean's position until their separately laced fingers were mere inches from each other and their faces were only roughly two feet or so apart.

“Still, I wanna make it up to you. Somehow. 'Sthere anything you wanna go do? Like... I don't know, go to fricken' Disneyland or something?” He looked at Cas with a pliant look, waiting for his answer.

Cas smiled. “Human amusement parks aren't really anything I have an interest in.” He looked down at Dean's hands, but said nothing for a few moments. Then “do you want to try combining my grace and your soul again? I don't know if we could without Life, but –”

“Yeah, we can try that.” Dean said, almost a little too over-enthusiastically. “If that's what you wanna do, I mean.” He added more indifferently after he realized he sounded like a kindergartener at Christmas.

Cas looked around uncertainly. “So should we just... Do it here?”

Dean snorted. “You act like we're doing something super private. Everyone's seen it before. Come on, we'll just sit like we did with Life right here.” He stood and walked the short distance to the end of the table, twisting the last two chairs so that they were facing each other once more.

They sat down in their respective chairs, staring at each other and not knowing how to proceed. After a few seconds, Cas cleared his throat and said “Dean... the first time we did this you weren't wearing your shirt.”

Dean's face turned about four shades of red darker. “Right.” Slowly he removed his white undershirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest blemished by his demonic-warding tattoo. The scars on his arms still glowed faintly with white light, but it was impossible to see except in total darkness. “So do we just... uh...” he leaned forward, allowing his shoulders to get farther into the angel's reach.

Tentatively, Cas put his hands on Dean's bare skin, his own heart racing. Dean's bare chest always made Castiel's heart pound. Everything about the man did. For a few seconds, nothing happened. They just sat there, Cas holding Dean at arms length like he had some sort of virus, Dean leaning in slightly for better reach. The air in between them grew hot with their breath and the tension in the room grew, but still nothing happened.

“Maybe we're doing something wrong.” Cas said and shook his head. He didn't move his hands, in some vain attempt at trying to make something happen.  
“We could wait until Life gets b–” Dean's answer was cut short as they looked down at Castiel's hands. They were glowing the same pastel green they were the first time, but much more brilliantly – so much so that it was difficult to look at for more than a split second. The light was slowly growing, too; as the already existing light got brighter, it traveled farther up Cas's arm and down through Dean's shoulders, little tendrils of light creeping along like luminescent vines.

The heated sensation that Dean experienced the first time came back, but it wasn't painful like it was previously. Now, it was a just a warm glow, like stepping into a well heated room after a cold day in the snow. It flooded over him smoothly, starting simultaneously from Cas's hands and his own core until he felt like he was tanning on a beach somewhere in sunny southern California – or at least what he imagined it felt like.

Both of their eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, unaware if they had to do something else or not. They sat there reveling in the experience, silently growing stronger as the minutes passed. The only reason they stopped was because of the door from the living room quickly opening, a redheaded girl standing there staring at them.

Dean and Cas instantly broke apart as Charlie started apologizing for interrupting. Dean hastily donned his shirt once more as they both dismissed her “sorry”s, the light from their experiment slowly fading. It had traveled up until it completely covered Cas's forearms, and Dean's shoulders were all a big glowing sea.

As Charlie quickly crossed the room and entered the kitchen, Dean and Cas quietly smiled at each other. So what if they were caught? They had both enjoyed the experience, and now they had something to do together that they both wanted.


	11. Chapter 11

Life didn't have to worry about the gateway to heaven. Being one of the people who _built_ the thing, he knew how to get in and out even with it being “sealed”.

It was much to Hannah's overwhelming surprise when six people just _appeared_ in front of her, four of them tied up and two of them standing there like bodyguards. Immediately she grabbed her blade from under her desk and called in for back up, but Life merely smiled.

“It's okay, Hannah. We're only here to help, and look! We've brought you something.” He motioned toward the graceless angels in the chairs, two of them now making a conscious effort to break free.

“Who are you?” She asked, dagger still raised. “And who are they?” She pointed at the captives with the sharp end of the weapon.

“I am Life, this is Behemoth. These four were the last four rogue angels on Earth that you would have had to eventually track down.” He smiled again, but it only served to make Hannah doubt him more.

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because I'm telling you the truth?” Life, for the first time in the conversation looked bothered by her doubt. Turning toward Behemoth, he asked the broad-shouldered archangel “did you guys really keep me that much of a secret? I mean, Death got to walk around like he owned the universe and nobody doubts the existence of your father up here, so why me?” Behemoth raised an eyebrow at Life's ranting.

While listening to him, Hannah's face changed. She no longer looked stern and warrior-like, but more awestruck and a little afraid. “But you're just a legend. You're weren't a secret... more of a myth.”

“You guys are really great at having faith in things you've never seen. I'm surprised you think your father still exists.” Life rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I've heard there's been trouble up here lately. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Uh... no, not really.” Hannah smiled. “I've got it pretty much stable.”

“It feels empty in here. Almost as bad as when I left. What happened to all the angels?”

“Most of us are dead.” Hannah looked crestfallen. “It'll take millennia to get back to how we were before the Apocalypse, then Cas, then Metatron. There are so few of us left.”

“Not millennia.” Life answered. “Centuries, maybe, but not millennia. I'll find God, and together we'll make the angels just as strong as they were in their prime. We'll get you your heaven back.”

Hannah's eyebrows rose at the open offering of so much help. She was just as much a skeptic as Dean, in her own way. “Thanks, but I don't think that'll be necessary. We'll get there on our own.”

Life smiled, understanding her cold demeanor. It was only tactical, after all. “Either way, we got you these four, and here are their graces,” he handed her the four flasks bound on leather cords, then continued. “I hope you recognize your older brother, at least? Behemoth has been around more than I have.”

“Yes, I know him. I know _you_.” She looked at Behemoth, surprise in her voice but not on her face. “What do you want? The last time anyone even saw you, you wanted to only be left alone.”

“I want to come back. I want to help restore heaven.” Behemoth said. “We'll need it to be strong for the coming fight.”

“What fight?” Her eyes bounced from Life to Behemoth, to the angels still struggling against their bounds.

“Do you know the stories about me?” Life asked her. When she nodded, he said “Then you know what it is I was trapped with to contain. If _I_ am here, it is inevitably also. If I'm around, the Darkness can't be too far behind.”

The color drained from Hannah's face, and she looked down at her desk. “We've only just begun to piece this place back together. It won't be able to withstand the Darkness if it's as strong as the legends would have us believe.”

Life smiled sadly. “It isn't dear. It's stronger. Are you sure that there's nothing we can't help with?”

After a few seconds, she answered. "Well, there are  _some_ things..."

 

Sam and Charlie were bored out of their minds.

They didn't really have to worry about anyone trying to kill them for once, what with all of the Steins being dead and the incarnation of life itself watching their backs, but without the constant need to be careful, their lives got a little... _dry_.

Charlie had decided that instead of doing paranormal, she was going to make a new friend out of the age-old gardener that had all but moved in with them. She and Cleopatra had become fast friends, agreeing on many important political topics, whether it was the politics of heaven, earth, _or_ hell, and their similar views made their personalities open up to each other that much faster. Charlie was at first slightly trepidatious of the former queen of Egypt – especially so when she found out that Cleopatra was actually a _witch_ , but eventually Cleopatra convinced her that there was nothing amiss, and that her power was used only to do good with.

 _She's like the Good Witch of the North from Oz_ . Charlie thought as she listened to Cleopatra ramble on about turnips and their proper growing conditions. _Damn I miss that place. And Dorothy, too. I hope she's okay_.

Cleopatra was looking at her expectantly, and it was only then that Charlie had realized that she had totally spaced out, day-dreaming about her girlfriend in another dimension. Shaking her head and smiling an embarrassed smile, she apologized and paid more avid attention.

 

Sam, on the other hand, had no one to hang out with. Dean and Cas were constantly together and Sam felt if he had to sit through more than about thirty seconds of their ridiculous love games he'd vomit. Charlie was out gardening with the queen of fricking _Egypt_ , and by now he'd read practically every book in the entire bunker. Hell, even _Crowley's_ entertainment would be welcome to him, for all it was worth.

Drinking coffee more often than beer, he had all of this pent up energy that he didn't really know what to do with. They didn't have a case to work yet, Rowena had vanished, the Darkness was long gone, Crowley was silent – nothing seemed to be happening _anywhere_. There wasn't any danger. Everything seemed so....

Normal.

And that terrified Sam.

He spent seemingly endless hours in the library or at the long table researching incessantly. He didn't really know _what_ he was researching – just looking for something to do, really – but it took his mind off of the fact that his life was on hold. He tried to find information on the Darkness, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary in relation to the weather. There weren't any abnormally-large storms anywhere in the _world_ , let alone where they might be able to help. In fact, there weren't any _storms_. At all.

Looking at a live-stream digital globe that depicted the weather everyone on earth, Sam noticed that there wasn't a single splotch of white anywhere. There weren't any clouds, big or small, to be seen on the blue and green sphere. That would be strange under any circumstance, but especially now. It was the middle of July – the beginning of the monsoon season. Where was the rain?

He wandered around the bunker, his laptop cradled in his left arm and his brows furrowed in mild confusion. Where was Dean? Sam thought this might be an important piece of information – the entire world going into a simultaneous drought definitely wasn't a good thing.

For twenty minutes he walked in and out of rooms and down creepy hallways, but still no sign of Dean (or Cas, for that matter). He even went to ask Charlie and Cleopatra if they had seen the two boys go off anywhere, but neither girl had an answer.

It wasn't until Sam walked into the kitchen that he saw the little sticky-note taped to the door of the refrigerator. It was written in Dean's short, oddly neat hand-writing and it simply stated:

_Sam,_

_Cas and I went to town. We'll be back in a couple of hours – we went for a food run._

_Call if you need us._

Sam's eyebrows rose from their low furrow to an incredulous high point. Glancing quickly through the fully-stocked cupboards and the overflowing fridge and freezer, he shook his head. It was about time those two went on a damn date.

 

Later that day, well after the sun had set and any normal mortal was asleep, Sam was still up on his laptop, looking at different news reports of the global drought. He had decided not to call Dean about it earlier, letting his older brother enjoy his time with the love of his life, but it still pressed heavily on his mind. He was wondering what was causing it – if it was the Darkness or Rowena, or maybe even Metatron now that he was free with the demon tablet, but there wasn't much to base a lead off of. As far as he could tell, the world just... decided to stop producing weather.

After a while of fighting to keep his eyes open, he admitted defeat and shut his laptop. He was almost asleep when he heard two sets of footsteps coming from the main living room, trying to stay quiet, but not putting too much effort into it. It obviously wasn't an intruder – Life had warded the bunker from anyone nasty coming in, and anyone brave enough to take on the Winchesters and the angel Castiel was typically smart enough to use the element of surprise. They wouldn't have just come blundering in like a pair of drunk monkeys.

Following this reasoning, Sam decided it must have been his brother and Cas coming back from their “grocery run”. It was obvious that that wasn't where they had gone – they had disappeared early that afternoon, and it was well after midnight.

Sam got up from his comfortable bed and walked into the dining room to meet them. They were wearing party hats and giggling like idiots, Dean had a massive spear of cotton candy in his right hand, his left on Cas's shoulder. It was obvious that they were both drunk out of their minds, but when Dean saw Sam, his mood sobered immediately. _Only_ his mood.

“Heya, Sammy.” Dean's voice was slurred. Sam hadn't seen him this drunk in a long time; years, even. Before Sam could respond, Dean burst into another round of laughter as the angel next to him hiccuped like a third-grader.

“You two have a nice date?” Sam asked, a smirk on his lips. “Where'd you even go?”

“It wasn't a date.” Castiel answered, but that was all he could say before he was hiccuping again and the two of them were practically keeled over with laughter.

“And we went to the circus!” Dean's eyes got unnaturally bright – a side affect of the liquor coursing through his veins.

“How much did you have to drink, guys?” His eyes bounced from man, to angel, to man again. “It would take an entire liquor store to get you so hammered Dean. And Cas, I didn't even know angels could _get_ drunk.”

Cas smiled up at him, blinking at the lights behind Sam's head. “Neither did I.” Sam only shook his head.

“You two need to go to bed.” He laughed gently at their giddiness. Dean nodded, but he wasn't looking at his brother. He was looking at Cas, who's head was now in the crook of Dean's arm. He looked about ready to collapse; whether from beer or exhaustion, Sam couldn't tell. He pushed himself in between them to a loud complaint from Dean that dissolved into giggling as Cas hiccuped again. With one man on each shoulder, Sam hauled them both to Dean's room and tossed them on the bed.

“Go to bed.” Was all Sam said before he left.

Suddenly tired, Dean nodded as his brother exited. Taking off his pants but not his shirt (not without struggle), he crawled under his comforter and pulled it up until only his head was sticking out. Cas made a move to leave, but again Dean held him back.

Cas stopped when he felt the warm fingers wrap around his hand, and his heart froze when he felt Dean squeeze. Looking down at his human, the look on Dean's face made Cas smile. He was such an innocent drunk. In a voice so lilting it was almost childlike, Dean asked “Stay with me again? I sleep better when you're here.” His eyes were pleading but slowly drooping shut.

The angel's eyes were suddenly clear as ever. No hint of the booze lingered to cloud his consciousness, and he looked at Dean with the same naturally-intense gaze that he fixated him with whenever Cas felt a pang of love. Smiling, he wordlessly took his coat off, changed into some pajamas, and crawled into the bed. Dean's goofy grin broadened until Cas actually began to worry that his face was about to split in half, and Dean buried his head into Castiel's sternum.

Suddenly, Dean's gruff voice rumbled against the angel's chest. Looking down, Cas asked Dean “What was that?” But Dean was already snoring.

It had sounded like “I love you, Cas.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

The bars on the window didn't make the sunlight streaming through any less blissful to wake up to. The fact that there was an angel in his bed didn't ruin the morning for him, either. Actually, it made it  _ better _ . And the fact that Castiel was actually  _ asleep _ , in his,  _ Dean Winchester's _ , bed, was about the closest thing Dean could imagine heaven being like. Dean didn't want to move, didn't want to get up ever again. He only wanted to stay there, asleep in his angel's arms, until the earth was swallowed by the inevitable expansion of the Sun.

Dean was glad he was such a heavy drinker, as ironic as that might sound. It meant he didn't have hang-overs. After all, his life was pretty much just one continuous one, wasn't it?

The fact that he didn't really have any negative repercussions from the previous night was totally okay with Dean. It meant that he could lie there, half buried under a blanket and half buried under an angel, and be completely comfortable. No screaming headache or urge to vomit  could distract him from this moment.

Castiel shifted in his sleep, his right calf sliding until it was situated in between both of Deans, and his right arm perched on Dean's side, snaking up his back. He was so  _ warm _ , so relaxing to be near, and soon that dangerous combination lulled Dean back into a gentle, happy slumber.

 

Halfway through the morning on his way to breakfast, Sam stopped by Dean's door. Silently guiding it open, he poked his head into the tiny sliver of a hole and peered in on the occupants. They were both snoring gently, wrapped around each other and both completely unconscious. It was rare that Sam heard Dean snore – he only did so when he was completely comfortable, and for most of their lives they bounced around from nasty motel to nasty motel. It was hard to be comfortable when you were surrounded by dried blood, scratchy sheets, and certain... unmentionable bodily fluids.

Smiling at his brother's stroke of luck, Sam closed the door quietly, letting the two sleep for as long as they wanted. He walked quietly to the kitchen, where he found Charlie munching on a bagel and some strawberries. 

“Want some? Cleo grew these and they're  _ amazing _ .” She offered him a strawberry off her plate, which he took.

“She  _ grew _ these? She's been here for a week. How'd she already grow a bushel of perfect strawberries? Especially in this drought we're having?” He took a bite and snagged a napkin as rich juice slithered down his chin. He nodded, impressed.

“She's a witch, Sam.” At her words, Sam's eyes widened in shock. “A good witch, though. She's harmless,  _ literally _ .”

“Still, we can't have a  _ witch _ wandering around the bunker!”

“Why, afraid I'll cast a spell on you?” Cleopatra's alto voice came from behind Sam. She was there, standing in the hallway he had just come out of, casually leaning against the door frame. “Don't worry about me, hon'. If anything, I'm the best defense you got against that red-headed bitch that stole the Book of the Damned.” Sam had no argument against that.

“Hey, how much do you know about the Darkness?” Sam asked her. She moved from her position in the doorway to sit next to Charlie. 

She sat down and shrugged. “Everything Behemoth knows. Why, what's up?”

“Are there any omens about it?”

Silent and thinking for a second, Cleopatra responded. “The stars will gradually fade at night, and the night itself will grow until there's no longer any day. It also gets either extremely hot or extremely cold depending on where you are. Typically, hot climates get hotter and cold climates get colder until they can't come into contact and the world dissolves into chaos.”

“What about  _ before _ it's destroyed pretty much everything?”

“That  _ is _ before that. If you haven't noticed, the days are already way shorter than they should be. The summer solstice was what, three weeks ago? And already the days are as short as they usually are around October. And today literally makes the hottest week Kansas has ever seen. It's been 120 degrees outside since last Wednesday.”

Sam  _ humphed.  _ “What about the weather? Does it affect like... clouds and stuff at all?”

“Yeah, the weather too. It hasn't rained in two weeks, when in the middle of humid Kansas in July it should be raining constantly. That's from the Darkness. Kill everything and it's easier to completely destroy it.”

“Great. So what do we do?”

Cleopatra smiled. “Put on a  _ lot  _ of sunscreen.”

At that moment, a weird rustling sound cam from the kitchen. It was similar to the sound of an angel teleporting, but it was also infused with a sort of musicality that angels lacked.

Standing in the doorway of the kitchen was Life. His unusual scowl made him look far older, and much more sinister than he typically did. However, the aging affects of his face were counteracted by his young body – he looked the same as he did when they had first seen him, like a teenager.

“What's up with you?” Sam asked. Life glanced up at him and Sam immediately averted his eyes.

“Nothing. I'm just thinking. I won't be able to stick around much longer – I've got to help Behemoth find Lucifer's cage to free him and his brother, and I also have to find God. I have more to do than I feel I have time for.” 

At his words, Sam grimaced in disgust. “Wait, you want to  _ free _ Michael and Lucifer? Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“Now that the Darkness is free, they have larger things to worry about then restarting the Apocalypse, Sam. And they're both Archangels. The only two who will be more helpful against the Darkness than them are God and I.”

“But I'm supposed to be Lucifer's vessel. If he's free, I'm done.”

“You don't think I can form a body for him? Honestly, Sam. Neither Archangel will be able to do anything to you or your brother as long as I'm here.”

Sam didn't look convinced. He knew how crafty Lucifer could be. “I know where the cage is. I've been in it myself. I'll show you,  _ if _ you promise me something.”

“What?”

“Can you evict Michael out of his vessel? You see, the guy Michael was possessing when I threw them both in the cage was our half-brother, Adam.” At that, Life laughed. “Is something funny about that?”

“Michael possessed a guy named  _ Adam _ ? That's just kind of ironic. You see, the first time Michael ever possessed someone was the first time there was anyone to possess. In order to fight the Darkness the first time, Michael had to take over the body of the first man. I guess it's a name thing with him.” Sam blinked, not understanding what was humorous about that. Life shook his head in exasperation.

Before Sam could ask why that mattered, Life asked a question of his own. “Where are Dean and the angel?”

Sam smiled widely. “Last time I saw them, they were asleep in Dean's bed,  _ cuddling _ .” 

“They were  _ both _ asleep?”

“Yeah. They came home late last night completely wasted and I had to carry them to Dean's room. I guess the alcohol knocked even the angel off his feet.”

Life smiled again, but his stern face made it look mischievous. “How sweet.” From behind him, Charlie laughed jovially.

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell one of you that I wasn't going to be around for a while. Unless you show me where the cage is.”

“Like I said, I'll show you but you have to take Michael out of our brother.”

Life's eyebrow rose. “What makes you think I won't?”

 

After Dean and Cas woke up, the two of them, Life, Sam, and Charlie all squeezed into the Impala together. Dean wanted the angel to sit shotgun, but everyone else argued that Sam was too big for the back seat, so the typical seating arrangement was procured. It helped to allow people space when Life turned himself into a sparrow and sat on Castiel's shoulder for the entire ride. A few hours later, the five of them were standing in the same cemetery outside of Lawrence, Kansas. It only took them a few minutes to find the vacant lot that the brothers and Cas had been at, all those years ago with two Archangels and a set of rings.

As they approached the place, Dean and Sam got increasingly less comfortable. Sam had to constantly scratch an itch behind his right ear, so much so that he was drawing strange looks from everyone around him. When asked, all he said was “I think the closer to the cage I get, the more my body remembers it. Like it's telling me to turn around.”

Sooner than anyone had hoped, they arrived at the spot. Charlie was immensely curious to see the two Archangels and Life didn't look in the least bit phased by their proximity, but the three men were obviously agitated. 

Life looked around, then closed his eyes. After a couple of seconds, he said “yeah, this is definitely the place. At least, this is where it was the last time it was opened.”

“Yep. I _ still  _ have nightmares about what happened here.” Dean looked around as well, scowling at everything he saw.

Life smiled at him reassuringly. “Don't worry, neither Archangel will be able to hurt you guys now.” He made a shooing motion with his hands, and when nobody moved, he said “unless you want to trade places with them, I suggest you back up a few feet.” They all hastily made distance from him.

Extending an arm, Life closed his eyes. He could feel the cage's entrance beneath him, could feel the emptiness of the pit receding into Hell. In truth, he didn't need to be exactly where the cage was opened last – he could open it anywhere he wanted – but it was already naturally close to this spot, so it made it that much easier.

After half a minute of nothing happening, the ground started to shake. At first it couldn't be felt – only the windless rustling of the leaves in the trees gave a sign that anything was happening. But as time went on, the force of Life's magic made it feel like a full-blown earthquake was taking place, and they were right at the epicenter. 

Beneath the spirit, the ground writhed and rippled like it was made of water.  Instead of sinking down and creating a hole like the Horsemen's rings did when they opened the cage, the ground exploded upward, a cascade of earth and stone that looked like a land mine went off.

With a flick of his wrist, Life sent the earthen shrapnel flying away from the mortals behind him. He now was standing over a gaping hole, floating over a vast darkness that gradually receded into a fiery, angry red glow. Life's hand was still stretched out, palm down and fingers curled slightly. It didn't look  like anything was happening, until one slim, writhing body flew up out of the hole and landed on the ground. It was surrounded by a strange white mist, so thick that it obscured all but the most rudimentary features of the human.

“Lucifer, get off of him.” Life said calmly. The mist, either on its own or by Life's power, pulled away from the man until it was obvious who it was – Adam. Or Michael, depending on who was asked.

The white mist of the evil archangel hung there in midair, twisting and twirling with the gentle flows of the ever-so-slight breeze. Michael was laying on the ground, but he got up and pursued the ghostly apparition – until Life raised his hand and Michael froze.

“Lucy, why don't you have a body?” Life asked the mist. After a few seconds of listening, he turned to Sam and nodded, comprehension plain on his face. 

“Well, we can't have you going back into him. Take the form of your former vessel, if he's not still alive.” With a wave of Life's hand, Lucifer coalesced into a solid form – the man that he had used as a vessel before he tricked Sam into agreeing to possession.

“And Michael, we can't have you in there any longer.” Life looked at Adam like he was scolding a child. “Come on out before I have to evict you.” 

Adam's eyebrows raised. “Sorry uncle, I'm not leaving. Somebody has to keep this boy in line, right?” His argument didn't phase Life in the slightest.

Life pointed a curled hand at him. It looked like he was force-choking him like some sort of Sith Lord, and Michael actually  _ did  _ start choking. Pale wisps of white mist fluttered from his mouth until it grew into a steady stream of archangel. Before long, Adam had collapsed and Michael was floating in much the same way his brother was moments before. 

“Now take  _ your  _ previous vessel's form.” And suddenly, a young, handsome John Winchester was standing before the crowd. Sam and Dean were furious.

“He can't just walk around looking like our father!” Dean shouted at Life. “Man, that's all sorts of wrong!”

“It'll have to do until the time being, boys. We really don't have a choice.” Life looked at them pointedly, but refused to say anything more.

Adam stirred on the ground, groaning and gradually sitting up. He opened his eyes and looked around, then smiled dangerously at Life.

“You're gonna wish you hadn't done that.” Adam said. Suddenly, his eyes turned demonic black. “Being stuck in there for so long kinda... turned me. Being trapped with Lucifer himself made me his son.”

Life laughed genuinely. “Being stuck in Hell turned you into a demon, and now you think you actually matter?” He snapped, and Adam shriveled and shrank until his clothes fell to the ground, empty.

“First you were a human, then you were a demon.” Life chuckled again. “Now you're just a cucumber with a bad attitude.” The green vegetable was set sideways on Adam's old, torn up clothes.  Life snapped again, and it disappeared.

“Where'd you send it?” Michael asked.

“Into the sun.” Life answered nonchalantly.

“You said you'd free him!” Sam started toward him angrily, but Life raised a hand and he stopped. “Why did you lie?”

“I didn't. I removed Michael, didn't I? I had no idea being stuck in Hell for seven years with the two strongest Archangels could turn you into a demon. Your brother died a long time ago. What I just took care of was a... shell.” 

Behind him, Lucifer and Michael were glaring at each other. “Now that we have our own bodies, you wanna settle this?” Michael asked. Lucifer smiled and they both started to crouch, but suddenly they froze.

“Now's not the time to be trying to kill each other. Do  _ either  _ of you realize that the Darkness is back?” Life shook his head. “It's like you've all forgotten that  _ the most dangerous thing in the damn universe actually exists _ . I mean honestly, did none of you remember  _ where _ I went in the first place?” Michael looked abashed, but Lucifer didn't.

“It's not our fault dad shoved you into that hole, too.” He said, shrugging. The three of them had all but ignored the three humans and the seraph on the edge of the clearing. “And besides, you left nothing behind for us to remember you by.”

“Shut up, Lucifer.” Life answered. “Anyway, I freed you two for a reason. We need to find your father  _ immediately _ . And your brothers as well.”

“Gabe's dead.” Lucifer said. “I had to kill him because he was helping those two idiots.” he motioned toward Sam and Dean, then to them said “Hiya, Sammy. I missed you,” with a wink.

Life snapped repetitively to gain the archangel's attention. Once he had it, he said “neither of you are going to bother either of them, understand?” When they nodded their reluctant assent, he continued. “Lucifer, take the eastern hemisphere. Michael, take the west. Go over each one as thoroughly as possible, then come back to me if you find anything.”

Lucifer shrugged and looked away. “I don't really like taking orders from people.” He said with mock sadness.

“And I don't like taking grace away from certain disobedient archangels, but I will do what I must if I have to.” Life answered sternly. Lucifer looked sufficiently cowed into submission.

Michael, on the other hand, looked at Life without question. “Where can we find you once we're done searching?” He asked.

“It doesn't matter, you'll be able to find me.” Life answered. “And I swear on your father's name, if I have to deal with the two of you trying to start the damn Apocalypse again,  _ I  _ will intervene.” He looked from archangel to archangel with a fierce expression, and for the first time, Sam and Dean saw the two strongest angels cower in fear. Behind Life, Dean looked at Sam with a face that said  _ Damn, remind me not to piss this guy off _ .

“Wait, you can't just bring us out of that hole and expect us to just  _ start working  _ again. We've been stuck down there a while, we're  _ tired _ !” Lucifer complained. 

“Quit talking.” Life replied. “You've suffered through worse, and you probably are going to suffer worse in the future. Now  _ go _ .” He snapped his fingers and the two were gone.

 


	13. Chapter 13

"This weeks' been freaking weird," Dean complained. "I'm ready for a break." He said it jokingly and with a half-smile, but Life looked at him like he had just solved the meaning of the universe.  
" Take one!" L ife said happily. " G o on vacation, the fo u r of you. You've more th a n earned it."  
"Nah, are you kidding? We can't just go on vacation when the world needs saving." Dean immediately went on the defensive.

Life looked at him sympathetically. "Honestly there isn't much you can do, Dean. Go relax, have some fun. The magnitude of the Darkness kind of renders mortals obsolete."  
" That'll convince us." Sam said from Dean's left. Life rolled his eyes.  
" Let' s go back to the bunker and talk there." Cas suggested. "I don't enjoy this place." Dean re adi ly agreed with him, as did everyone else, but with more gusto than was entirely necessary.  
Thirty seconds later, they were parked outside of the bunker door and climbing out of the Impala. They walked casually inside, L ife's force field rippling gently as each crossed it's threshold. Once inside, D e a n plopped down on the couch and Cas sat next to him, while Sa m and Charlie lounged in some chairs.  
" Honestly though, I think you guys should relax for at least a week. You've been through a lot lately and you need time to recuperate." Life's voice was gentle, but the way he said the words left little room for argument. " A nd you can't say you don't want to, Dean. Hell, _I_ want to, and I'm about the last person to be able to."  
Suddenly, Sam spoke up. "I think we should too, Dean. You even said that after we got the Mark off you that we sh ould go on vacation. "to a beach" I think you said."  
He didn't need too much convincing. It was, after all, _his_ idea originally. "Alright, yeah. Let's go on vacation!"

 

The next few days were a blur for Team Free Will. Life had gone back to searching for God, Cleopatra took a trip back to Florida for more “supplies”, Charlie wouldn't stop talking about this place in California that she had gone to when she was little, before her parents had died. Dean and Sam were constantly busy getting snacks and other road-trip necessities, and Cas was of help wherever he was needed. Lucifer, Michael, and Behemoth would check in on them from time to time at Life's behest, but the first two were always turned away harshly, Behemoth being the only one that they were at all partial toward. Eventually realizing that the four of them would be fine, Life stopped motherhenning them.

Finally the first day of their trip came, and everyone was in a buzz of excitement. The trunk was emptied of its artillery and replaced with swimming trunks, towels, and regular clothes. Of course, they wouldn't go anywhere without at least _some_ defense, so they each carried a rifle and an angel blade (except Sam, who usually stuck with Ruby's knife). The seats of the Impala were cleaned and prepped for a long trip, covered half with people and half with snacks. They were finally ready to go.

“One last thing.” Dean said before they all piled in. He locked the bunker door and stashed the key in the bottom of the trunk, where no one but the four of them could find it without deliberately searching. They crawled into the car, Dean taking the wheel, Sam to his right and Cas directly behind Dean (the easiest place for Dean to spy on in the rear-view mirror). Charlie took up the last vacant seat – the one behind Sam. It would be a long trip from Kansas to California, but they were ready.

Dean cranked the radio, blasting his favorite _ACDC_ cassette. They were in high spirits as they left the bunker, finding their way to the historic _Route 66_ , planning on taking it through the intervening states until they got to the land of fruits and nuts.

They stopped at every land marker that any of them found interesting, prolonging their journey by more than a day. Stopping at regular intervals to switch seats, go to the bathroom, eat, or just to sight-see, they didn't reach California at the speed they thought they would – assuming they would get there in two days, it took them three. None of them cared, though. As long as they were together, happy, _relaxed_ , and out of danger, they could take as much time as they damn well pleased.

At last, they made it to the Sunshine State. They were at the very bottom of California; only ten or so miles from the Mexican border. It was balmy and beautiful, not a cloud in the sky (perhaps the only _good_ thing the Darkness could do was make nice vacation weather), the ocean splashing against the shore in relaxing rhythm. When Dean first saw the beach he smiled so wide it made him look like a kid in a candy store. Behind him, Cas secretly resolved to keep that smile on his face for the rest of eternity.

Dean's joy was infectious. They were all laughs and loud voices for the entire way, but once the largest expanse of water on the planet was visible, the amount of animation in the car exploded. Even the stoic angel in the backseat was giddy with excitement.

Charlie directed Dean to where her family's vacation home was. It was about a quarter mile from the ocean line, nestled behind a small hill that blocked the view of the water but not the sound. It was large and airy, with great windows facing every direction and more than one story to boast of. They hurriedly unloaded their over-stuffed trunk and dashed to the beach in their swim-clothes, relishing in the last few hours of the setting sun.

Dean made it to the warm water first, and dove headlong into the waves. He came up sputtering and splashing like some sort of bear, twisting and turning and throwing water everywhere. Sam was right in after him, crashing into the waves like a torpedo. Charlie was more careful, running gingerly in until the water was up to her knees. Cas, however, didn't even get near the water. He was content to just sit on the little shelf of sand fifty feet from the shore. Dean, however, was _not_ having that.

“Cas, come on! The water's warm!” He splashed Charlie, who was still reluctant to submerge herself. She emitted a high-pitched gasp and splashed him back, but he was only a distraction. Sam was behind her, and as she splashed his brother he tackled her into the water, he laughing and she screaming.

“No thank you, Dean. I'm fine here.” Cas smiled, glad that Dean was having fun. And he really _was_ content where he was at – he wasn't one for being loud and raucous, he leaned more toward quiet examination and learning.

“Don't make me drag your angel ass in here.” Dean called with mock authority. Castiel rolled his eyes and snapped. A wave of water far larger than any they had seen so far barreled into the mortal, knocking him over and submerging him once more.

Coughing and laughing, Dean resurfaced. “That's it, I'm dragging you in!” He ran up the shore line, dodging a fleeing Charlie who was being chased by Sam with a length of seaweed.

Cas waited until Dean was almost on top of him, then vanished. Dean dove head-long into the sand, getting his mouth, eyes, nose, and ears full of the tiny grains. Shaking his head and spitting, he looked around only to find the angel standing directly behind him, smiling.

“You're going to have to move faster than that if you want to get _me_ wet.” Cas smiled down at Dean. From the water, Charlie choked on laughter and Dean's face reddened.

From his crouched position on the sand, Dean lunged again, this time snagging the angel beneath him. At the last moment he slipped on the loose earth and instead of hitting Cas in the chest, he snared him around the waste and brought him down. They laid there for a couple of moments, laughing and breathless, until Dean crawled up until his legs were around Castiel's sternum.

“Now you're not going anywhere unless you take me with you.” Dean smiled down at the angel, who glared at him mischievously back.

“You act like that's a bad thing.” The angel answered. Without warning, Dean was covered in water. Cas had teleported them into the waves, causing Dean to nearly choke on the salty sea.

Wriggling out from underneath him, Cas swam up to the surface. Once he breached, he laughed as Dean still struggled upward, only swimming away when Dean was within grabbing distance. They played a game of cat-and-mouse until they were both worn from swimming and fighting the pull of the ocean.

Charlie and Sam had quit splashing each other on the shore and had sat down, wrapped in towels, to watch the two in the water. Cas had taken them so far out that they were only little black rectangles in the gathering dusk, but they had seen and heard enough to know that the two were enjoying themselves.

“D'you think Life's plan with those two will really work?” Sam asked Charlie. After a second, she nodded.

“They're already hopelessly in love. They only needed to be pushed together a little more.” She yawned and stood, wrapping the towel farther around her despite the warm, stagnant air. “I'm going to go get something to eat. Wanna come with?”

They walked back to the house together, leaving the angel and former demon to frolic in the ocean for as long as they desired. It wasn't long until Dean was hungry too, so Cas warped them back to the house, where they sat waiting for the other two on the wide wooden steps that led up to the wrap-around patio. Dean's smile was larger than Sam had seen it in years.

 


	14. Chapter 14

They all went inside, Charlie leading the way to the kitchen. Everyone knew how to get there, but she took the lead since it was technically _ her _ house.  
As was almost tradition, Dean made burgers for dinner. He would have  _ loved _ to use the giant grill out back, but it was too dark. He thought he'd died and went to heaven (again) when Charlie flipped a switch and a porch light illuminated the entire deck. A half hour later and they were eating the best grilled burgers Dean thought he had ever tasted. Cooked to perfection, Roth just the right amount of char and seasoning to get the best flavor imaginable, they were absolutely  _ divine _ . The weird salad Sam made wasn't all too bad either. Cas sat with them as they ate, even taking bites of Dean's food when offered. Dean looked at him, hungry for praise and despite himself, the angel admitted that the food (if he were still human) would have tasted excellent.   
" T hey're good molecules,  D ean," he had said after the first bite. Dean looked ecstatic. " Y ou're very good at combining them correctly." From then on, dean wouldn't stop bragging about how even angels liked his cooking. 

Sam just rolled his eyes at his love-sick brother, Charlie smiled into her plate. Once they were finished with their late dinner, the three humans went to sleep – the long trip there and the physical exertion of the ocean had entirely drained them of energy. Charlie had taken her old room, the only one on the base floor. It was large and spacious, with a queen sized grey poster bed. Next to the door to her room was the door to the stairs – a solid, wide case that looked inviting and slightly creepy in the dark.

Dean had bolted up the stairs, dead-set on taking the master bedroom. Sam didn't even try to argue – he knew that Cas would probably end up in the double-king sized monstrosity that took up more than half the room  _ with  _ Dean. Instead, he took the small, quaint room that was on the opposite end of the hall, as far away from the eventual-couple as possible. He didn't need to be kept awake at night by... noises. 

Sam slept through the night, which was a rare thing. He, for once, wasn't worried about being attacked by anyone or anything, and he felt at ease despite being in a totally new place.  _ Maybe it's because Dean and Cas are finally enjoying each other _ , he had thought moments before falling asleep. Then, a pang of uncharacteristic sadness hit him in the chest.  _ Man, if only Gabe were still alive. He was always such a big dork. _ _ Maybe when we get back to the bunker, I could ask Life to resurrect him. I mean, we need archangels anyway, right? _ Before he could continue his internal monologue, he was fast asleep.

He woke from his slumber like a cat would after a long nap. Stretching and moaning gently, he yawned and took more time than usual to open his eyes. When he did, he had to reclose them because of the brightness of the Sun, but eventually his eyes adjusted.  Making his way downstairs in a tank top and  g rey sweat pants, he was surprised to see  C astiel sitting on the supple leather couch.  
"What? you didn't go to bed with your boyfriend last night?" Sam teased. As he expected, the angel have him a confused look.  
"I don't have a boyfriend, Sam." He answered. Sam expected him to continue, but Cas looked away from him, seemingly deep in thought.  
" S omething on your mind, Cas?" Sam asked, plopping down on the couch beside his celestial friend. Cas didn't answer. "Anything you wanna talk about?"   
The angel gave Sam a pained look. "What does it feel like to fall in love?"  
  
Rowena snapped and the tall, ominous looking candles set around the room flared into life. She had just avoided the few Steins that dean had unknowingly left alive. It hadn't taken much to give them the slip, but it did make her breathless and adrenaline-pumped.  
She sat down at her  small yet ornate desk, withdrawing her most prized possession – the Book of the Damned. After almost two weeks of nonstop deciphering and decoding, she had finally copied it into her  _ own _ translation – one she had made sure no one without her specific knowledge could crack. She still didn't know what a lot of the spells in the book could do, but from just scanning the words, she could tell they were  _ all _ extremely powerful. 

Mindlessly exploring the malevolent contents of the parchment, she scanned the book until she got to a random spell. She couldn't say why she stopped on that particular one, only that it seemed to draw her in, but once she read it and made sense of it, she knew why.

This wasn't just  _ a  _ spell. This was  _ the  _ spell.

The spell with which she could rule the world.

Now, if only she could access the ingredients....

 

Crowley sat on his black throne in the grandest chamber in Hell. He was listening to reports from different demons from different regions of the world, and for once, all of the reports were  _ good _ . From a demon's point of view at least.

The strange drought over the world was working wonders. Already, thousands of people were dying of starvation in third-world countries across the globe. Some of them went to heaven, some to Purgatory, and some to his realm, but the fact that so many people were suffering just made his demonic heart all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside.

He was listening to one such report when a massive vibration ran throughout all of Hell. Crowley knew from experience that nothing less powerful than an incursion of angels could cause such a disruption, and he was  _ not  _ going to let those bird-brains take his precious cargo from him  _ again _ . The last time they ripped someone out of Hell, it was that thrice-cursed  _ Winchester _ . 

He stood from his iron throne and walked down the unending hallway that seemed to be where the shock-wave resonated from. He hadn't heard any sort of out-of-place noises, only the weird shaking. No signs of battle, no sounds of angels and demons trying to kill each other, nothing. It was quiet, apart from the screams of the agonized dead. 

Just when he thought that he was hallucinating again and decided to turn around, billowing black smoke appeared at the opposite end of the hall, an eternity away. Crowley's eyesight was better than a human's, after all he  _ was  _ the King of Hell for goodness sake, so he could see the largeness of the gas. It was too big to be a normal demon, but even for abnormal ones like himself or Abaddon, or even that prick Alastair, it would have dwarfed them.

It approached him with lightning speed, closing the in terminable gap with a speed equal to teleportation. Before it completely swallowed him, it stopped like it hit a wall. Not knowing what it was, he instinctively covered his head with his arms in a protective stance, but when no contact was made he stood erect and smoothed his overcoat with his hands.

From everywhere and nowhere, a deep, gravelly voice lower than even Castiel's shook the ground beneath him. It echoed in every particle of his meat-suit, vibrating his jaw bone and making the base of his skull ache.

“ _ Crowley, king of demons,”  _ it said. “ _ Work for me and you will prosper. _ ”

Looking around at the great wall of shadow, Crowley looked unfazed, like his usual bluff. “Sorry, I don't work  _ for  _ anyone, no matter  _ who  _ they might be.  _ Especially _ if I can't see their face.” His voice remained calm and sardonic, despite the suspicion that was crawling up through his gut. “Show yourself in a more... diplomatic form, then we'll talk.” As he spoke, the Darkness recoiled in on itself until it was compacted into a single,  vaguely-human shape. It was still taller than even Moose, but it wasn't taking up all the space in the hallway.

The size isn't what Crowley saw first. No, it was the way the Darkness only looked like a silhouette. It looked like a man-shaped window was carved into reality, the pain of reflection-less glass holding back a cloud of oppressing smoke. 

“That's... better,” Crowley said. “Although you still don't have a face.”

The Darkness's head area flickered, and two pits even blacker than the smoky haze of its body appeared where eyes would normally be. Not normally one for fear, it made Crowley's stomach turn. “ _ I don't have a face, puny one.” _

“How humiliating.” Crowley didn't care. “What can I do you for...?” He didn't want to say  _ Darkness _ , because it would make him sound like a dim-witted child.

“ _ I need your assistance.” _ Came the harsh response. “ _ The witch Rowena has something of mine. I need you to free it from her.” _

Crowley's eyebrow raised and he pulled his bottom lip in. “Two questions. One,  _ why _ should I help you? And two,  _ why can't you just do it yourself _ ?” His head shook from side to side sarcastically.

At his tone, he was thrown back against the wall, the power of the Darkness keeping him several feet off the ground. He closed his eyes when he hit his head, seeing stars.

“ _ Because  _ I _ can help you,” _ the Darkness answered. “ _ And because I can't. I cannot touch it. _ ”

“And  _ what  _ might this... object... be?” Crowley's voice was tense from the strain of not being crushed into the stonework behind him.

“ _ The Book of the Damned _ .” He dropped to the ground, wheezing as he regained his breath.

“You can't touch it?” Immediately his mind went to reasons why, and picking the most obvious (and helpful) one, he thought of  _ many _ different ways it could benefit him. “ Pray, carry on.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Sam looked away, blinking rapidly. That was probably the  _ last _ question he expected the seraph to ask him. Thinking for a moment, he hesitantly said “Well... that depends. For most people, they uh... they can't get the other person out of their head. Like, they're always thinking about them. What makes them happy and stuff. And they always want to be around the other person, because being close to the person they're in love with makes  _ them _ happy. Take Jess and I for example. I loved her, and I didn't want to see her sad or angry or upset over anything. And I always looked forward to seeing her again, even if we had  _ just _ seen each other. Make sense?” He knew that was a crappy way to explain it, but he was unprepared and under pressure, so who could blame him?

Castiel frowned and looked away, thinking.  After a few moments, he looked back at the man in front of him. “Yes. I think I understand. But what happens when the other person doesn't love you back? Like with Jess. What would you have done if she didn't love you?” He was full of questions Sam wasn't expecting.

“Well, if I wasn't sure I'd  _ ask  _ her about it. And if she didn't, I'd try to move on because when you're in love, it sometimes has to mean that their happiness is more important than yours.” Cas looked sad, but before he could respond, Sam asked him “Do you think you might be in love, Cas?”

Tentatively, the angel nodded. Sam kept a straight face, but inwardly he smiled. “With who, do you think?” He only asked out of politely feigned curiosity. He already knew the answer.

Castiel's eyes darkened. He looked more and more upset as the conversation went on. His answer was whispered so quietly, Sam only knew he said something by the way his lips moved. When pressed for a repetition, he said louder “your brother, Sam. I think I love Dean.”

Sam finally allowed himself to smile. Clapping the angel on the back, he said “I know, man. We  _ all  _ know. Except for Dean probably, but he sucks when it comes to feelings.” Cas looked terrified, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. 

“Relax! You want some advice?” Sam offered. Castiel just stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Talk to him about it. From what Charlie and I can tell, it's mutual.” With that, he slapped the angel's shoulder blade again and went into the kitchen.  When he heard a rustle of wings, he paused with his hand on the door. When he turned around, the angel was gone.

 

A half hour later, Dean came downstairs in his pajamas as well. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but to the relief of everyone else in the house he  _ was _ wearing pants. 

The moment he entered the kitchen and his eyes only registered two bodies in the room, he looked around. With more confusion than concern, he asked “Where's Cas?” When both Sam  _ and  _ Charlie shrugged, Dean's brow furrowed and he went to grab his phone and check the rest of the house. As he left, Charlie looked at Sam with an expression that said  _ where  _ did  _ he go? _

A couple minutes passed and Dean came back in, now with a shirt on. He had his phone pressed against his ear, waiting for the angel to pick up on the other line. When he didn't, Dean began to look worried.

“Neither of you thought that an angel gone  _ missing  _ might be important?” He asked. Without Cas, his mood immediately soured. 

“Dean, relax. I'm sure Cas is fine. I saw him this morning and we talked, then he left. This is  _ Cas _ after all. He can handle himself.” Sam looked at his brother with a patient expression.

“What were you talking about?” A hint of coldness entered Dean's voice. Something almost akin to... What,  _ jealousy _ ? Sam didn't know.

Going back to their first-line-of-defense lie, Sam answered with “Groceries. I said we were out of some stuff, so he probably took it upon himself to get some for us. He'll probably be back in an hour or two.”

Dean looked temporarily sated, but as the day wore on and Cas didn't come back, his mood steadily darkened and he became more and more irritable. If Sam hadn't of known better, he would have said that the Mark was back on his brother's arm.

Sam and Charlie all but ignored the grumpy man for most of the day. The two of them together had loads of fun by themselves – taking the impala up the coast, playing in the water, tanning on the beach. They weren't bridled by any sort of love life.  Eventually, Dean got passed the gaping hole in his heart and accompanied them, releasing himself until he could enjoy the day properly. Occasionally though, his heart would still twinge with sadness at the vacant seat in the impala, or the extra towel in the trunk.

As the sun dipped low over the horizon and the three humans settled down to watch the orange orb sink into the sea, a flutter of feathers alerted them to Castiel's presence. He looked tired but not hurt, like he had just finished running a marathon or something. Dean was on his feet in an instant,  grasping Cas's arms and looking him up and down for any signs that he might be hurt.

“Cas where'd you go? I was worried about you we're supposed to be on vacation!” Dean stole glances up at his face in the middle of scanning his body for cuts or bruises.

Cas looked at Sam over Dean's shoulder, at first not comprehending the motions he was making, but realizing after a split second of watching him. “I just went... grocery shopping. I'm fine, Dean.” 

“ _ Groceries  _ took you the entire day? You've been gone since before I woke up! Where'd you go, fricken'  _ Nepal  _ or something?” Cas didn't have an answer. “And I've been trying to call you all day! Did you forget you have a phone?”

“I left it here. I'm sorry, Dean.” His head tilted to one side. “I'm here now, though. Relax.” His gravelly voice signaled the end of the conversation. 

Before it could fully come to a close however, Dean said “You better not be going off with Crowley or some other asshole again. The last time you did  _ that  _ it released the Leviathans.”

The angel's face scrunched up in disbelief. “I'm not,” was all he'd say. Dean plopped back down into the sand, outwardly tense but relieved inside. His angel was safe, what did it matter where he'd gone?

Cas sat down next to him, unconsciously close. Their knees brushed against each other, as did their shoulders, but neither was emotionally capable of initiating more contact than that. Sam and Charlie watched them for a second, but when Dean turned a questioning eye on them, they refocused on the setting sun. At one point that no one could recall happening, Dean put his arm around Castiel's shoulders, in a way that could be mistaken for brotherly love if the onlooker wasn't aware of the chemistry between them.

They sat that way until the sun was completely beneath the orange horizon, then walked back up to the house together. For dinner they had supreme pizza and their typical dinner beverage – beer. They ate casually on the couch while watching  _ The Wizard of Oz _ and listening to Charlie rant about how literally everything in the movie was entirely inaccurate. After dinner, they watched a couple of the  _ Terminator _ movies until Charlie was fast asleep and Sam was fighting to remain conscious as well. 

As they finished the second in the series, Sam stretched, yawned, and went to bed with whispered  _ goodnight _ s to Dean and Cas. The angel carried Charlie to her room, Dean following for the sake of nothing but the angel's presence. 

Together, they walked back into the living room. Cas sat in one of the three over-stuffed chairs, sinking into it but still managing to look regal and authoritative. Dean laid down on the couch, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his legs casually.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Dean sat up. He turned and looked at the angel with a slightly concerned expression, licking his lips in nervousness. 

“So.. where'd you go earlier?” He  inquired .  At his words, Cas looked uncomfortable.

“Just... out. I had to clear my head about something. I'm sorry I didn't let you know where I was.”

“Clear your head?” 

“... Yeah.”

“ Of what?”

“Nothing, Dean. It's been very hectic these past few weeks, and I just wanted to be alone for a day. That's all.” He knew it wasn't a good excuse, and he knew that  _ Dean  _ knew, too. But he couldn't say that he needed to get away from Dean because he was upset about  _ unrequited love _ . 

Dean's eyebrows lifted and fell back down as he placed his hands on his knees. “Okay. Well, I'm gonna head to bed. I'll see you in the morning?” His question held more meaning then just “goodnight”.

“Yes, Dean. You will.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

“If I'm going to get the Book of the Damned for you, _you_ are going to repay me.” Crowley said. He was again sitting in his throne, surrounded by methods of torture. The Darkness stood before him, its head even higher than his despite his elevated position. Its black, empty eyes bored into Crowley's inner being, sending slight shivers of discomfort up his spine.

“ _And why should I help you?”_ It asked. “ _I could very easily threaten you into obeying me, demon. You are not the most powerful one in the room.”_

“You'll help me because it's... mutually beneficial.” Crowley smiled sideways, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together. “You see, I need you to kill someone for me. Or rather, _multiple_ someones.”

“ _Who?”_

“The Winchesters. And all their friends. They're about the only people in the _world_ that stand a chance at stuffing you back into your hole, and they've been a pain in my ass since the damned Apocalypse. I need them out of the way, _you_ need them out of the way. They've evaded me for years, but what can stop you?” His eyes narrowed in a convincing gesture.

The Darkness laughed; a deep, resonating sound that resembled the fall of an avalanche. “ _The King of Hell needs a hound, is that it? Fine, I'll do this for you._ But _, only if you get the Book._ ”

Crowley shook his head, smiling. “Not so fast. The boys are vulnerable right now. The stupid mortals are on _vacation_. It would be far easier to kill them than to attack my mother currently, so why not take the opportunity?” He smiled and leaned back. “Kill the boys and I'll get you your book.”

“ _You expect me to trust you? You're a demon, fool.”_

“But I'm an _honest_ one.” Smirking, he added “I _always_ make good on my deals.”

The Darkness seemed to blink, the pools of black on its smoky skin fading slowly, then returning. “ _You have two weeks to get it before I rip your domain apart.”_ With a whirlwind and an explosion, the Darkness ascended straight into the world of the living.

Crowley leaned over to one of his servants. “You'd think for a substance older than even God himself, it would be a _little_ more clever.” He chuckled to himself as he relaxed into his ebony throne.

 

Charlie was lounging on a lawn chair, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the sand when she heard it.

_Was that thunder?_

She sat up and took her white sunglasses off, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the pernicious glare of the sun. When she regained her vision, she looked around. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, as usual, but she had sworn she heard _thunder_.

 _Maybe Dean and Cas are going somewhere in the impala._ She thought to herself. She turned around to look at the house, but it was still. Her brow furrowed and she frowned slightly in curiosity, but didn't think much of it. Weird noises came and went like the wind in the hunting business.

As she turned back to face the water, something caught in the corner of her eye. There on the northern horizon, where the sandy beach met with the edge of her vision, was a tiny black smudge. It looked out of place amid the gold of the sand and the blues of the ocean and sky. She watched as it grew steadily into a column of what looked like smoke, forming a torrential cloud of shade. At first she thought it was a regular storm cloud, that maybe the Darkness _wasn't_ causing a global drought, but when she saw red lightning flicker from its depths and heard the thunder it caused from so many miles away, her heart filled with dread.

She bolted out of her chair, sliding slightly on the sand as she ran back to the house to alert the boys. “GUYS!” She screamed. “GUYS, BAD NEWS!”

 

Dean was sitting on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter while Cas was blabbing on about how he had found some recipe for apple pie during his time as a human that he was trying to recreate. Sam was taking a nap upstairs in his room, so it was just the two of them.

He'd never admit it, but the way the angel's butt swayed back and forth as he walked around the kitchen looking for ingredients held such a strong attraction for Dean, it made him lose focus on the Cas's voice on more than one occasion.

God, he was so _helplessly_ in love with the damned angel. He'd never been in a committed relationship other than with Lisa, and even then he had thought he'd been head-over-heels for her. The feelings he had for Cas though, dwarfed anything Lisa or Ben ever made him feel. There were two things that surprised him about this. First was the fact that he was _absolutely_ okay with it, and the second was that he thought _Cas actually might like him too_ . He wasn't sure, but he knew how to read people pretty well, so he _thought_ just maybe...

Cas had lulled into a peaceful silence as he was cooking, which Dean took as the perfect opportunity to talk to him about things. He didn't know how to initiate the conversation however, so for a time he just sat there, thinking of the right thing to say.

After what felt like forever, he said “Hey uh... Cas, can I talk to you about somethin'?” He rubbed his hands together, unsure of what he was going to say exactly.

Looking over his shoulder, Cas's eyes revealed nothing of the agonizing storm that had just sprung to life inside his head. He smiled, and turning back around to the stove, said “Of course, Dean. What's the matter?”

“We've been through a lot lately...” Dean started. “But not just recently. Me and you, we've literally been to Hell and back together–” his speech was cut short by a screaming Charlie that had just ran in from outside.

“Guys! The Darkness, it's here, we have to go _now_ get your stuff–”

“Charlie, slow down.” Castiel was grateful that she had appeared at that exact moment. “The Darkness hasn't been seen in a week, even by Life. Are you sure?”

Before he had even finished his sentence she was nodding. “Yes, it's outside, it looks like it's _coming for us_ guys we have to GO!” When neither of them moved, she grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him outside to show him.

“See? Look, right there, on the horizon! It's the Darkness!” Dean's eyes followed her pointing finger until it rested on the hulking black thunderhead.

“Cas she's right. We've gotta get out of here, go wake up Sam!” Dean grabbed the keys to the impala and headed toward the front door, but when he got there the car was gone.

“Where's the car?!” He screamed up the stairs. Cas and a beleaguered Sam came charging down the wide staircase, Sam hasty pulling a shirt over his head in the process. Dean asked his question again, but no one knew.

" You're saying it just _drove_ off?" Dean looked at the other three like a father scolding his child. The house shook violently, and when Charlie looked outside the world had gone dark.

" Let's get outside and try to find it!" Sam called out in response . The darkness wasn't completely on them... Yet.

"What, are you crazy?" Dean shouted back. It was the only way they could hear each other over the claps of thunder and the scream of the wind. "We'll get eaten alive by this thing!"

"The Impala might be the only way we survive, Dean," Cas's voice cut through the noise like a blade through warm butter, but he wasn't speaking any louder than normal. "I'd try to teleport us out, but I can't. The D arkness... It's absorbing my power."

After a second's hesitation, everyone followed Sam outside, running inland. They found the Impala at the base of the long, shallow hill the h ouse was built upon. Dean would find out later that the brake was shot , so it had rolled.

Before they even had a chance of getting to it, a swarm of what looked like gnats descended from the sky and flew at the group, strategically in between them and their getaway plan. Naturally, they all dived o ut of the way, but the swarm came back around to strike from their rear. Simultaneously, a wall of shadows blocked the car from view, cutting off all plans for escape.

Somehow, they were pressed together again, back to back. And they were alone, a tiny island of light and life amid an ocean of shadowy despair.

The gnats of darkness poured down on then from directly above their heads, larger than they could run from. Before it could kill them though, it dissolved into nothingness. When they ceased their cowering and looked up, each one was surrounded by a faint halo of light, the same colors they had seen when Life showed them their souls.

The D arkness seemed to retract ever so slightly, pooling around them like spilled ink. From everywhere at once, they heard it's deep, peril-filled voice in their heads _and_ their ears.

 _"Life has protected you_ ," it whispered and screamed. " _No matter. You'll still die_." A black snake the size of a garbage truck loomed out of the smoky shadows, it's eyes glittering with red hatred. Hissing and spitting it lunged at them, but before it could make contact, it too vanished.

“ _You will still be destroyed. You will fall, you will fail.”_ A giant, deathly fist large enough to pick up the house they were just in appeared above them and hurtled toward the ground with such force, it was inevitable that their protection would shatter and render them forsaken.

But at that moment, a youth similar in appearance to Death materialized, smiling at the four before him. Life raised his hand, and the fist of death that would have smashed them all to nothingness evaporated. His smile faded and he turned toward the great shadow, glaring deep into its depths, but the Darkness laughed.

“ _You cannot save them, little one. They are doomed_.” The voice of the Darkness shook the world.

“I don't need to protect them indefinitely.” Life answered. He blinked and his eyes turned gold and green, and the Darkness made a tactical retreat. “Behemoth, come _now_!” Life shouted into the violent air, sending out a distress call to the blessed Archangel. Moments later, he was standing next to Castiel and Dean.

“Get them out of here. Take them somewhere safe.” Life said. “Go, _now!”_ He didn't turn around when he heard the barely audible flutter of wings behind him, but he _did_ turn when he heard Sam's voice call his name.

“Life! _Life!_ ” Sam was still behind him, on his knees in the scratchy sand. Life looked at him in shock and confusion.

“Sam! Why are you still here?” Life screamed as his knees buckled too, the weight of the Darkness crushing his power. “Why didn't you go with Behemoth?”

“I couldn't! He disappeared before I could grab onto him!” He was on all fours now as Life's power waned and the barrier he supported shrank.

Despair entered Life's eyes as he realized the inevitable. He couldn't teleport Sam away now – the Darkness was too overwhelming, too close. With the last vestiges of the energy he could spend, he did something Sam would never have expected.

 _He ripped out his soul_.

Gagging as Life's hand shot into his stomach and removed his conscience, he looked down at the glowing ball of light in his hand. “What the hell–” He was going to scream, but Life had shoved his _other_ hand, holding a glowing _gold_ ball instead of a glowing _white_ one, into the same place. Sam gasped as a ripple of energy charged his entire body, then looked down at the saddened teenager before him.

“I'm sorry.” Was all he said. His eyes seemed to be slightly more shiny than usual. “Hold on.” And with that, the shield around them collapsed.

The Darkness swooped down, throwing Sam into the air at break-neck speed. It caught him deep within itself and held him there, suspended hundreds of feet above the ground. After a second of absolute terror and confusion, Sam screamed as a blast of shadow hit his back. Where the Darkness touched, nothing remained. Every atom in Sam's body was completely destroyed as Life watched helplessly, the large man disintegrating to less than nothing in a matter of seconds.

Not for the first time (nor the last), Sam Winchester was dead.

 


	17. Chapter 17

Dean, Cas, Charlie, and Behemoth were huddled together for protection, but as they realized that they were back in the bunker and safe from harm, they quickly dispersed. Dean, naturally, was the first person to realize their number was lower than it should be.

“Where's Sam?” Concern and worry quickly seized every molecule in his body. Turning on the archangel, Dean said louder “ _Where's Sam?”_

Behemoth shook his head and crossed his arms. “I don't know. There were too many people for me to carry here, and the three of you were closer to me than he was. I'm sure Life will bring him back, Dean. Don't worry.” He looked as concerned as Dean felt.

Sitting down at the table, Dean tried to fight back the waves of panic that threatened to overwhelm him. He kept telling himself _Life'll bring him. Life won't let Sam die. He'll come back_ ... But when Life appeared nearly an hour later, torn and beat up to high heaven, but more importantly _alone_ , Dean lost it.

“ _Where is my brother?”_ He was angry. Angry and hurt, sad and terrified. “Where's Sammy?” His voice cracked as it did whenever he showed more emotion than average. He stood there, glaring at Life and Behemoth and anything within his vision, waiting for an explanation.

Life said nothing, merely looking down at the floor in regret and defeat. Dean knew what that look meant. He knew all too well what _that_ look meant.

“I knew I couldn't trust you.” Dean's voice was dangerously calm, but it threatened to break into a typhoon of emotion at even the slightest provocation. “I knew you were just a _little_ too good to be true.” He looked at Behemoth, then back at Life. “Get out. Both of you. _Get your asses out_ , _now_ . And don't _ever_ come back unless you have my brother with you.”

“Dean, that really isn't a good–” Cas began, but Dean cut him off before he could continue.

“Cas, stop. They're the _last_ two people we need here right now.” Turning back to Life, Dean said again " _Get out_.”

Life nodded, understanding. He looked at Behemoth, who promptly flew away, then turned back to Dean. Wordlessly, he pulled out of his jacket pocket a small jar, more of a vial really. Within was the same glowing white orb that he had removed from Sam right before he had died. Sam's soul.

“Sam isn't dead.” Life said more to himself and the vial than to anyone else. “Before the Darkness took him, I cast a spell on him. Even though it tore him apart, the spell will re-piece him together. It'll take a while, maybe a couple of weeks, but he'll come back. He'll be in the same place, in between the impala and the house. He'll be asleep, but he _will_ be there.” His voice was quiet and sad, as if losing Sam was akin to losing his own brother. “He'll need this when he comes back.” He lifted the vial in an open palm until it was parallel with his shoulder, and released it. Instead of falling and breaking, it stayed in the air and slowly drifted on Life's magic until it was within arm's reach of Castiel. The angel plucked it up and looked down at it sadly, not really knowing what to do.

“I'll see you all later.” Life said, and then he was gone.

 

Days passed where no one would see Dean at all, not even Cas. He'd stay in his room sulking for most of the day, only coming out to get a whole pack of beer then going back in. Naturally Charlie was worried, but her concern was nothing to Castiel's. Outwardly he was as calm and pensive as ever, but on the inside he was sick with disquiet. He wanted to comfort Dean, to find Sam, to bring Life back because that was what they needed. That was what _Dean_ needed, even if he wouldn't admit it to himself.

Occasionally Cas would try to knock on Dean's bedroom door to see if he was okay, but he never got an answer and the locked door never changed. He'd had half a mind to just knock it down or teleport through it, but he knew that would only upset Dean even more.

As the fifth day rolled around and the unnatural quiet of the bunker began to make everyone tense and on-edge, Dean finally emerged from his room. His face was red and his eyes bloodshot, his hair was totally _ruined_ , and his clothes were so rumpled it looked like a fashion statement. When Cas and Charlie saw him from their vantage point at the lonely table, they both stood quickly, eager to assist in any way they could.

“Dean...” Cas said, but the doleful look on Dean's face silenced him. It left no room for comfort, no desire for recompense. It screamed sorrow, and seeing it made even the angel's knees weak.

Silently, Dean made himself some coffee instead of beer. When that was finished and he had his own cup, he grabbed his laptop and sat down on the far end of the table, away from the other two who could only look on in agonizing wonder.

After a few minutes of silence, Cas spoke up again. “Dean... Dean, what are you doing?” His voice was gentle, but it still demanded to be heard.

“Lookin' up the Darkness. Or Rowena. Or Crowley. Somebody's gonna pay for Sammy.” He sipped his coffee and didn't take his eyes off the screen before him.

“Sam isn't dead though. Not entirely.” Charlie answered. “You heard what Life said, he'll be back.”

Dean wrenched his gaze away from the computer to stare her down. “Do you really believe that sack of lying bull? Cause I don't.” His eyebrow raised and his head bobbed in question.

“Yes. We do believe him. And you should too, Dean.” Cas answered. “He's believable. We should _all_ trust him.”

“Why, because the angels said so? Because that's what they taught you up in heavenly preschool? No Cas. We've never trusted _anything_ the angels have ever said. And I'm sure as hell not going to start now.”

“You trust me.” Cas answered quietly. “And I'm an angel.”

“You're different.”

“How? I was raised just the same. I was brought up on the same stories, the same principles. I'm just like any other angel, Dean. Yeah, angels are assholes sometimes. But they're _honest_ assholes.”

Dean shook his head. “No. I'm not gonna put _my_ life in some _god's_ hands just because a bunch of dicks told you he was a good guy at one point in time. That's not happening.” He slammed the laptop shut and turned to glare at the angel.

“Then don't. I'm only saying, wait. We can go back when he said to, and if Sam's there, then great. We'll bring him back and we can try to tackle the Darkness on our own.”

“And if he's _not_ there? What then? Are we just gonna _forget_ about it?”

“Of course not.” Neither of them noticed much when Charlie exited the room, heading off to avoid World War 3. “But we'll make do. We'll take Sam's soul to heaven where it belongs, and we'll fight the Darkness until we either lose or it's destroyed. And after the Darkness we'll kill Crowley, and Rowena, and whoever else is involved with this. And then we'll go back to hunting things like we always do.” Cas didn't look like he wanted a confrontation, but he knew to expect it. So much raw emotion channeling through Dean wasn't going to manifest itself peacefully.

“ _And then we'll go back to hunting things like we always do_ . But it wasn't me and you, Cas. It was _never_ me and you. It was always me and _Sam_ . But now Sam's dead. Sam is _gone_ . And he's not comin' back.” His voice broke, and tears threatened to breach the dam in his eyes. “He was the only family I had left. The only _real_ family. And now he's gone too. It's just like Crowley said, isn't it? Everyone around me. They always die. And this time it's permanent, isn't it? Because it's the _Darkness_ that killed him, not just a demon. Not just an angel. _The Darkness_.” As the first tears ran down his cheeks, he stood and walked away toward the kitchen again.

Before he could leave however, Cas said something.

“I'm still here. You still have me. And yeah, it _was_ just you and Sam, Dean. But I'm here now. And I _can_ take his place, if you'll let me.” Cas had stood too, but he hadn't moved more than a foot from his chair. His eyes were shining as well, but he wasn't full-blown crying like Dean.

At his words, something in Dean snapped. He'd known it for a while, but he'd never been able to come to terms with it. Yeah Sam was his brother and he loved the gigantic dork, and yeah Charlie was the coolest girl he'd ever met and she was practically his younger sister, but he'd never seen Cas as _family_ . Scratch that, he _did_ , but not as a brother. Because he loved Cas, but not like that. He loved him like Lisa, like all his little teenage crushes and the dumb hookups that he'd been in over the years.

Dean didn't know how he'd collapsed, nor had he been able to tell exactly when Cas had gotten to him, cradling him in his angelic arms. He didn't know when he started crying silently into the angel's shoulder, and he sure as hell couldn't tell at what point he had stopped. But he _could_ tell when Cas's clean scent filled his nostrils and his hand started gently rubbing the back of his neck. He had no idea when he'd dozed off and slept in Castiel's arms for an hour, but he knew when he woke up that everything would be okay.

And all because of the stupid seraph he was cuddling with on the steps to the kitchen.

Cas's eyes flicked open when he felt Dean stirring beside him. Dean pulled away and Cas let him, watching as the man he loved sat up and rubbed his eyes. They sat there, neither moving for a few moments, until Dean turned to look at Cas.

Then, faster than the eye could think, Dean was pressing his lips to the angel's, fulfilling so many desires that both of them secretly held, secretly lost sleep over. At first Cas didn't know how to react – he was surprised of course, and more than elated, but he feared a trick. Or a hallucination, or spell or something that made Dean not think like he normally did. He didn't even take into account the truth – that what Sam had said about Dean was true and he felt the same way.

Cas kissed Dean back, unsure at first but as passion gripped him his confidence grew. Everything felt so completely... _right_ , despite Sam's death just days before. The dark clouds of despair that had clouded both of their minds were temporarily chased away as they found solace in each other, comfort replacing misery, joy replacing melancholy. After a second of bliss, Dean pulled away to stare at Cas's beautiful blue eyes with his own glorious green. His gaze flicked down to the lips that had tasted so good just a second before.

“I love you, Cas.” Dean whispered so quietly human Castiel's ears wouldn't have been able to register it.

“I love you too, Dean.” Cas replied as their lips met once more.

 

Charlie had avoided the shouting, but after an hour of silence she was starting to worry. Shouting meant that people were dealing with their feelings. Silence meant that they were bottling it up and letting it ferment into something far more dangerous.

She had expected one or both of them to have left, probably to a bar or something to replace the black clouds in their heads with the grey of liquor. What she _hadn't_ expected was ironically the one thing that she and Sam had been rooting for, for literally years. That they were together. Not just physically, but like... _together,_ together.

She saw them there, on the steps, and silently closed the door behind her. Better to let them have their space and not let anyone know until they were ready, right?

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

The next week was weird for Charlie. She'd see Dean and Cas together literally _all the time_ . They were inseparable now that they were together, which she _much_ preferred. It hadn't taken long for them to tell her, which to her seemed odd. Two emotionally reserved yet unstable dudes falling helplessly in love, both of them being raised in horribly hetero-normative childhoods? She expected them to take months to talk to her about it, but it only took two days. She guessed it was probably because she knew where they were coming from.

Despite Sam being gone, Dean looked relatively happy to Charlie. His smile wasn't as bright but it was more consistent, and he was going back to his usual coffee in the mornings instead of an entire keg of beer. She knew he wasn't completely whole, however. When she'd walk passed his room in the middle of the night going to the kitchen, she could hear him quietly crying on the other side of the door, his angel whispering soft words of consolation in an effort to make him stop.

She'd also catch him just randomly staring off into space occasionally. She knew from intense research and personal experience that when someone stared at nothing it was one of the early signs of depression. She worried for him, but she knew there wasn't much she could do right now. Only Cas could get through to him, and even for _him_ it was hard sometimes.

The few occasions in which Dean was _not_ glued to Castiel and she and the angel could talk alone, they discussed pretty much nothing but Dean. How he was doing, if she could help, if Cas would let her know once there was something she could do. The one thing that _wasn't_ related to Dean that they spoke of was what Life had said before he left.

 _Go back in two weeks, and you'll find him there. He'll be asleep, but he'll be there_.

They talked of different ways to convince Dean to go, but each one ended nearly as quickly as it began. They even said that maybe they should go under cover, just the two of them while Dean was in the bathroom or something, but they had firmly decided; after the turmoil with the Mark and the Book, they wouldn't go behind Dean's back anymore. At least... not while the wound was still fresh. Maybe in a year or two, when they weren't all about to die at any moment.

Eventually, they ran out of options. They knew they'd have to convince Dean _somehow_ , or just force him to tag along. After all, if Cas pinned him and teleported, Dean wouldn't be able to throw him off and Charlie could just tag along for the ride. But neither of them wanted that plan. They wanted Dean to go consensually.

The appropriate day rolled around, but they still hadn't had a chance to talk to Dean. Every time the subject was brought up, he would shut it down. “No, we're not going. Life lied, isn't it obvious guys? Not even _he_ can bring Sam back. Just leave it alone.” Then he'd storm off and take a half-hour shower or something.

The morning that Life had designated as Sam's resurrection day started bright and early, but that didn't ease Dean's unnatural paranoia. Something was off. Something was... _missing_. He didn't know what it was, so he subconsciously shrugged and rolled over, reaching for the soft warmth of Castiel's–”

That was it.

 _Where was his angel_?

Castiel's tan trench coat was still in the floor by Dean's bed, half-buried under his dark blue slacks that the angel had traded in favor of Dean's sweats the night before. He knew the angel wouldn't have gone anywhere willingly without either, so he must be still in the bunker, right?

 

Or he could have been taken by someone.

Either way, he wasn't with Dean, so he wasn't where Dean thought he should be. Getting up, he decided to look around the bunker first before making any rash presumptions.

It was a good thing he did, too. Cas was sitting at the long table with Charlie, taking quietly to the fiery head of red hair. Once his eyes beheld Dean however, he stopped.

"Watcha guys talkin' about?" Dean asked nonchalantly. "Something I should know?"

 

Castiel's stern gaze rested on him. "The two of us have decided. We're going to go back for Sam. You can come with us or not, but either way, _we_ are going."

Naturally, this elicited more than just minor irritation from Dean. "He's gone guys, give it a rest. He's not coming back."

"And what makes you think that?" Charlie asked. "Life brought _me_ back. Why can't he bring back Sam?"

"Because a _man_ killed you, Charlie. The fricken _Darkness_ killed Sam."

"Either way, we need the Impala as well. We should go back for that, at least." Cas interjected, ever the peacekeeper.

"Yeah, don't you want you're baby back?" Charlie smiled at Dean, who smiled back at the thought of his car.

"Told you that'd win him over." Charlie said to the angel at her shoulder.

"But we're only going back for the car!" Dean glared at the both of them.

Twenty minutes later, they were standing on the beach of their first and last vacation attempt... or at least what was left of it. The entire land was torn to bits from the Darkness half a month ago. Where beautiful trees used to stand were now gaping holes; swaths of green, fertile grass were now pits of bubbling tar; even the ocean hadn't escaped it's touch. It bubbled and hissed looker it was at a constant low boil, but it was frigid to the touch and released clouds of nauseating green vapor every so often. 

Charlie's family vacation home lie in ruins. The three had trouble even finding it for a while, until Charlie let out a despairing gap and swank to her knees in the center of it. It was ripped to less than the foundations – literally nothing remained but a massive pile of fire-scorched dirt, half blown away by the once-balmy, now-burning breeze.

The three of them stood there for an indefinite amount of time, Charlie kneeling and weeping while Dean and Cas flanked her and offered scant words of apology and comfort. It was, naturally, Dean who was aroused from his melancholy stupor first. His eyed wandered as he wondered why it was they came back. The Impala being there was more than he could hope for – of everything else was obliterated, good could it be whole still? How could _Sam_?

It was while his eyes blankly surveyed the landscape that he spied a small bit of shining black metal, far from where he'd last seen his beloved car. He walked slowly toward it, dreading the pieces of the Impala he knew he'd find scattered over the countryside. It was much to his delight then, when he pushed aside a fallen sapling and there the car was, unharmed, without even so much as a scratch.

What really made the tears spring from his eyes wasn't the car, though. It was the two people inside.

Life was sitting behind the wheel, looking out of the window and blabbing away about something Dean couldn't hear. In the seat next to him, chest rising and falling peacefully, his face plastered against the window without a trace of gracefulness was Sam.

Sam was alive and sleeping, just as Life had said. It was Dean's turn to sink to his knees in shock and awe. Castiel and Charlie came up behind him, and when they saw the car and the people inside, Charlie screamed and Cas smiled broadly. The angel rested a hand on Dean's shoulder, strength and happiness flowing from the celestial being to the mortal man. Dean grabbed it in his own and brought it to his lips in a joyously speechless kiss. Charlie had ran up to the car and caught Life's attention, who had now climbed out and joined her. They were talking about Sam and the car and how they were both _whole again_.

Gingerly, Cas dragged Dean to his feet. Leading him by the hand, Cas walked into the little clearing, which at Dean's presence fell into an expectant hush. Life looked at him pensively, while Charlie moved out of his way so he could see his younger brother.

Dean's eyes flicked from Sam to Life and back several times before he spoke. “I guess I was wrong to doubt you. Sorry.” The last word was hesitant, and after he said it he wiped his face with his hand.

“No worries.” Life smiled, as always. Then more seriously, “I understand your hesitation. And your distrust.”

“Dean.” The one word that rumbled in the bottom of Castiel's throat had enough power to capture his mortal's attention entirely. He nodded toward where Sam was sleeping in the car, goading Dean into action. He took the hint and moved over to the passenger side door, climbing over rocks and uprooted trees to get there. He opened the door gingerly, holding Sam up so he didn't fall out without the door's support. When the door was opened wide enough he hoisted Sam in his arms, no small feat considering Sam's _size_ , and carried him over to the impala's hood where he lay him down, his head resting on the windshield.

“So how do we wake him up?” Dean asked without turning around.

From behind him, Life answered “Do you still have his soul? It's kind of the key to the spell I used on him.” Cas pulled the glowing white vial out of his pocket and handed it to his superior. Before he did anything however, he explained himself.

“The spell's called the Soulless Sleep. It's designed exclusively for mortals, and it prevents death in any form, from any source. The key, however, is the soul. When the person the spell is cast on has his or her soul, then they're mortal and the spell has no affect. If they don't, then they can't die but are in a state of permanent sleep. That's why whoever bore the Mark couldn't die. The Mark was inseparably connected to this spell. At the usual time of death, the power of the Darkness would separate the carrier's soul from their body, which activated the magic. Then, the Darkness would turn the soul into a demon and send it back out as the Darkness's own personal bitch.” He twirled Sam's soul in his fingers, marveling at it's radiance. “I guess you guys don't care about that, though.” He unstoppered the vial and poured the vaporous white liquid into his hand, where it took on its typical shape – a sphere. Holding his hand up toward Sam, he breathed on the little orb gently, and it floated forward until it hovered above Sam's chest. It sat there in the air, a foot above Sam's heart, for just a second, then it sank down into the firm muscle.

With a flash of white, Sam gasped and his eyes flicked open. Looking around, he wasn't aware of where he was – he remembered the Darkness, and Life appearing then ripping out his soul, then the pain in his back and then.... nothing. They were close to the ocean still – he could hear it not far away, but they must have been on a completely different beach. There wasn't any warm sand here for him to sink his toes into, it was all hot, putrid dirt. Even the sky looked different – the beach they were on before had clear blue above it thanks to the Darkness, but this one had great clouds of gray at the roof of the world, teetering on black and threatening rain.

_I thought the Darkness made a world wide drought?_

Before he could form a coherent answer, he looked down. Dean was standing over him, concern and worry so obvious on his face, it could only have meant that Sam had been out for a while – a couple of hours, at least. Charlie and Life were standing side by side, smiling down at him behind his brother. Castiel was there too, pressed against Dean with their hands tangled together –

_Whoa. Finally._

“Sammy?” Dean was looking at him with eyes that barely held back his tears. “Sammy, you okay?”

“Yeah, Dean. I'm fine.” There was stress in Sam's voice, and as he sat up he he grunted. “What happened? 'The hell are we?” He asked.

“We're on the beach again. You... How do you feel?” Suddenly Dean was forcing Sam to stand, looking him up and down with a quizzical glare.

“Dean, I'm _fine_ , seriously.” The amount of concern on Dean's face was uncharacteristic of him.

“I doubt you're fine, man.” Dean shook his head. “You've been _dead_ for two weeks.”

“ _Two weeks?_ I have not been dead for two weeks, Dean. Life chased off the Darkness a few hours ago, max.”

“Oh yeah? What's the date today, do you think?”

“Should be...” Sam had to think for a second. “August first.”

“Wrong. It's the thirteenth.” Dean whipped his phone out, the electronic screen showing the date and time to prove his point.

Sam was more than confused, he was baffled. “Two weeks?” He looked at Life. “That was _two weeks ago_?” Life nodded.

Sam blinked incredulously. “Damn.” He looked up again at the clouds, his mind ignoring the confusion and focusing on something that _might_ be easier to understand. “I thought the Darkness prevented the weather from changing?” He asked no one in particular.

Life snorted. “The Darkness... has stopped. At least for now. Everything's returning to normal, as far as I or the Archangels can tell. We can't find it and we've been searching for it since what happened. It's gone.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

The Darkness was definitely _not_ gone

It was in the only place Life had no desire to go to, and the one place the archangels couldn't go. Because _Crowley_ had warded them out. The Darkness was in Hell, with its King.

Crowley sat on his throne, boredly torturing some soul that had just descended into his realm with nothing but magic. When the night-like form of the Darkness descended from the ceiling without warning, it startled him from his stupor and caused him to jump with surprise. He watched impatiently as the formless black mass took on a vaguely human shape. It writhed and seethed under its own power until it looked like the same giant hulking mass of void he had spoken with days ago.

“Well?” Crowley asked. “How'd it go? Are they dead?”

“One is. The tall one. Life had the nerve to intervene before I could smite the others down.” The shadows of Hell literally bent toward the Darkness, the physical being drawn toward the super-physical. “It is enough. You will retrieve my book, demon. Or I –”

Yes yes, I know. You'll destroy everything and obliterate me. I'm used to it. I'll get you your book.” Crowley waved dismissively. “You wouldn't happen to _know where it is_ , would you?”

“A place of heat. One almost entirely inhospitable.”

“That only narrows it down to about half the planet.”

“Phoenix, fool. The book is in Phoenix, Arizona.”

 

After thirty minutes of being threatened by the Darkness and indirectly bantering with it, Crowley and two of his best followers were standing in the middle of Sky Harbor Airport in downtown Phoenix. He looked at the masses of people mulling around him like so many sheep, and he reveled at the dissonance he felt with them. He could feel the mistakes he'd made before slowly losing affect. The human blood was finally leaving his system after all this time, the hex-bag from his mother wasn't clouding his mind as much, and best of all, the distance from the Winchesters was making him _much_ more... demonic.

He and his two “bodyguards” strolled through the airport until they were outside. The air was dreadfully hot, almost as bad as Hell itself, but being demons, none of them cared. The Darkness said that the Book of the Damned was in this area, that's why Crowley had decided to appear in the airport and not one of the many high-rising buildings in the industrial part of the city. By just being there, he knew the Darkness was right. He could feel the power of the Book, even from so great a distance, and it _burned_. It was a very powerful, and rare, magical artifact. The energy it gave off could easily make Crowley stronger than even Michael and Lucifer, who he'd heard had been released from their hole. The spells inside however, if he could manage to _read_ them...

He followed the pull of the cursed book, wandering the stifling city with his demons until he found the house he was looking for. It was simple and nondescript, a cookie-cutter house that was identical to the other hundreds that surrounded them. However, even the most basic magical eyes could tell that it was covered in all sorts of warding symbols – protection from demons, angels, even curious human children or dogs. Nothing was going to get into that house without a little more mojo than Crowley had.

The Darkness had prepared him for that, though. It had strengthened him until he was far more than _just_ the King of Hell. No, now Crowley had a bit of the Darkness inside of him, merging and forming with the demonic black smoke that was once his soul. Just by the contact, Crowley knew it was old – _way_ old. He himself was pretty old too; he'd come into existence over three hundred years ago, and had been kicking every since. But the span of the Darkness, from what he could tell, made three hundred years look like the same amount of time it takes for a bee to beat its wings once. With that age came indescribable power – even the smallest wisp that the Darkness had unceremoniously thrust into him was the strongest thing he'd ever personally encountered. It also filled him with a strange sort of maniacal rage and blood-lust – the same kind he'd seen in Dean's eyes when he'd went with the mortal on a demonic joy-ride.

After staring at the house for a few seconds, Crowley snapped his fingers. The glyphs that shielded the building from demons faded into nothing. He left the others so no one else could intervene with what he was about to do. Smiling sardonically, he sauntered up to the front door, not bothering to ring the doorbell next to the handle.

Pushing both the screen door and the one of solid pine open, he walked carefully into the seemingly empty building. It was dark inside – it was the middle of the night and they were far enough inside of a residential area that the lights from the city didn't burn through the windows. Plus, every light in the house was turned off.

After carefully exploring the ground level and the top floor of the small two-story home and finding it abandoned, Crowley proceeded toward the basement, where the pull of the Book was centered. Going down the short hallway and stopping at the second door on the right, he silently pulled the door open, not wanting to alert his presence to who, or what, ever might be inside.

Gently placing his weight on the top step of the rickety stairs, he leaned forward to listen and wait for any sign of alarm. When none came, he proceeded forward with just as much caution...

And then found himself floating hundreds of feet above the house, his fiery red spirit surrounded by the smoky black of the two fools he'd brought with him. He watched through the roof as their meat-suits collapsed on the ground inside of the house, his own tumbling down the stairs and startling the living _Hell_ out of his mother. She'd been asleep, but the sight of her son's body tumbling down the entrance to her chamber had scared her into full consciousness.

The red smoke that was Crowley crackled with infuriated energy, not knowing what had just happened. It obviously wasn't Rowena – she was unconscious just before.

But if it wasn't her, who could it be?

 

He sat down at the small diner's table, ready for some food. His work from the night before had made him so exhausted – the spell to mass-evict all of the demons from their vessels had required an enormous amount of energy. He'd slept like a rock last night and hadn't even woken up when the glare of the sun beat down on him. He still wasn't used to the whole _sleep_ thing – after all, being the Scribe of God since the dawn of creation didn't really allow for napping breaks.

Metatron sat there, waiting for his plate of pancakes to be ready. After that one “nice” meeting with Castiel when he'd lost his grace, he was still fond of the weirdly sweet pieces of circular bread. Sooner than he was expecting, the pretty waitress carried his small-stack of 'cakes over to him, complete with two different flavors of syrup, a nice little square of butter, and some delectable whipped cream. The cherry on top was the coffee – definitely the best coffee in all of Philadelphia as far as he was concerned. Hungrily, he slathered the warm hickory syrup all over the top of his pancake tower and almost literally dove into the food. In all his experiences in heaven, he'd never found anything that had even come _close_ to the taste.

He was half-way through his meal when he was rudely interrupted. His _visitor_ had curly brown hair and a scruffy beard, and he smelled of booze and more crude scents. He looked permanently tired and disheveled, like he'd just woken up (which would have been weird, considering it was almost eleven). Past the disgust that Metatron felt for this human, he was predominantly surprised.

_'The hell is this mook?_

The stranger stared at Metatron with curious, unblinking eyes, but didn't say anything. Unsure of what to do, the former angel sat there uncomfortably for what seemed like an age, but finally asked “Can I... help you with something? Go away, I'm not interested in your hand-out porn cards.”

The man raised a bushy eyebrow. “I don't have any porn cards... Metatron.” The mention of his actual name threw the angel for a loop.

“Did you just call me _Megatron_? Sorry kid, I'm not a transformer.” Feigning innocence, he went back to eating his pancakes.

“Nice try smart ass, but I know who you are. You're the angel who wrote the Word of God down on the tablets. “The Scribe of God”. It has a nice ring to it when you don't think about the implications.” He leaned forward and casually folded his arms on the grimy table, avoiding a pool of syrup Metatron hadn't bothered to clean up. No reason to get that all over his arms.

“And who are you, then? Some angel I haven't met yet?” Metatron asked. It was obvious that his cover was blown. He was just grateful that the diner they were in was so noisy – their words would get lost in the chaos of the day-to-day lives of those around them.

“Nope, not an angel. I'm... an author, just like you. Well, _kind of_.” He scratched his bicep unconsciously. “My screen name is Carver Edlund, but my actual name is Chuck Shirley.” He smiled openly.

“Ah, the prophet... I guess. You're the guy who wrote the Winchester gospels.” Metatron looked less than pleased that such an amateur would care to dine with him, one of the greats. _The_ great. “Big fan of your work, by the way.” He lied, wondering what this fool wanted.

“No you're not.” Chuck called out his lie like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know you burned copies of my books in heaven, Metatron. But that's not why I'm here.”

“Why are you here, then?” The time for politeness was gone. This _mortal_ was annoying.

“I want the demon tablet. I mean yeah, I could always just rewrite it since I don't need you anymore, but that would mean that you'd have a copy, too. And we can't have that.” Chuck raised his eyebrows at the angel in front of him as if to say _now do as I told you too, kid_.

Confusion, and a certain amount of petrifying fear, suddenly overwhelmed Metatron. What Chuck had said... _I don't need you anymore_...

“And why should I give it to you?” He wanted to see if this “person” in front of him was who he thought he was. If Metatron was right, he'd have some _serious_ explaining to do.

“Well you could try and keep it, but I'd just take it from you by force then. And probably kill you in the process.” He was so casual about it, Metatron knew that he could. Even if he had his grace, this man could crush him like a bug underfoot.

By now, Metatron knew who it was sitting before him, but the smallest worm of doubt still wriggled in his mind. There was one last way to make him reveal himself...

“I'd like to see you try.” He leaned back and folded his arms in mock-confidence, totally bluffing.

Chuck shook his head. “It's been thousands of years and you still haven't learned?” He snapped his fingers, and the entire diner at once fell silent. Metatron glanced around frightfully. The entire building was empty.

“Now give me my book back before this has to get ugly, son.”

 


	20. Chapter 20

She finally gathered all the ingredients, but she was too _damned_ tired to cast the spell tonight. She'd just traveled literally _around the world_ searching for these stupid and bizarre bits of stuff that she needed, and she just wanted to take a break. A good, long sleep would do her well.

Hiding all the ingredients wasn't overly hard – after all, they were pretty small and fit perfectly inside a desk drawer, or under her mattress, or even behind the little brick at the bottom of the wall that came loose when you pulled on it just right. She spent a little over an hour finding good, out-of-the-way places to put each little trinket; the soul of a priest in the drawer, the grace of an angel behind the brick, a Leviathan's head inside her suitcase. She'd nearly died multiple times getting each object, and she was more than willing to exhaust herself even farther to prevent having to get any of them _again_.

After her chore was finished, she retired to bed. She was confident that nothing was going to find her, the Book, or the many ingredients hidden around the room. After all, she was in the middle of just about the most mortal city in the world – Phoenix had hardly any paranormal activity within the last century – _and_ she had warded the house she was using against pretty much every creature known to man, demon, or angel. _Nothing_ was getting in without her permission, and if they did, she had a slew of nasty spells that would force them right back out.

She collapsed on the bed with a resigned huff, staring at the ceiling just long enough to give herself a greater feeling of security before lethargy overtook her and she fell into a heavy, dreamless sleep.

 

A crash in the middle of the night woke her up with a shock.

She looked around, frightened, and watched as a body tumbled down the stairs leading to her chamber. The few glimpses of the man's face she'd been able to see before he'd rolled over and hidden himself from view had told her who he was, but she wasn't certain.

Standing in her night gown and clutching the fleece blanket to her chest, she tentatively crept over to the body now laying on the cool concrete floor. After she realized that she wouldn't have any other visitors, she dropped the heavy heated blanket and looked at the man on the ground more closely. He appeared to be dead.

“Fergus?” She asked, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Fergus is that you?” Rolling the man over, she could tell that it was. Her son was seemingly dead on the floor of her basement, inside of the warding she'd made and the spells she'd cast. At first she wondered how on earth he'd gotten in there, but when she saw that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon (if indeed he could at all), clever initiative overwhelmed her curiosity.

The last ingredient for her spell had just fallen through her door. The flesh-suit of the King of Hell was lying before her, just _waiting_ for her to tear into it. All feelings of fatigue escaped her, and reached for the Book of the Damned from where it lay under her pillow.

 

All of the ingredients were mixed together, the fowl-smelling concoction turning the air she breathed into a rancorous gas. The black sludge inside of her mixing bowl was thick and slimy – almost like tar. Stirring it was no easy feat. It had the consistency of concrete mix... if syrup was used instead of water. She might as well have tried shoving her spoon through a solid stone.

As she crumbled the final thing, which just so happened to be Crowley's teeth, over the mix, it bubbled and hissed and caught fire. “ _Dei tenebrarum, mors et odius omnis Dei creationis, veniat ad me et sequi me_ _”_ she whispered over the brew. It shook visibly. She repeated the line three more times as the Book instructed, then continued on with the incantation. It was long and complex, and the verbage was strange, probably belonging to an older version of Latin than she was used to seeing.

After twenty minutes of reading from the Book and drizzling various amounts of her own blood on her mixture, she was finished. At first nothing happened, but soon she heard a very high-pitched noise, just barely audible on the fringes of her senses. It gradually grew in volume, and as it did, _things_ began to happen. The entire room shook as with an earthquake and caused little trinkets all over the room, and above her the house, to fall to the floor. The candles she used for light extinguished themselves and then ignited with harsh black and red fire. The potion she'd made released clouds of green, noxious gas and spit out bubbles of phlegm-like wads of dark green muck. Above the entire commotion could be heard the same whine that had started the entire thing, now so loud and piercing that Rowena thought her head might explode.

She crouched there for what seemed like hours surrounded by chaos and destruction, not knowing what to do. Just as her legs were about to give out, everything stopped suddenly. From straight through the ceiling, the Darkness came pouring down around her, swallowing her up in its smoky folds. However, it could not destroy her as it did Sam – her spell prevented that.

 _“You dare to try to contain me, witch?”_ Its satanic voice boomed around the room with unnecessary force. “ _I will ruin the world, along with you.”_

“You will ruin the world _for_ me, now.” Rowena answered. Even as they spoke, the Darkness collapsed in on itself until it ceased to fill the room. The spell she'd cast was forcing it into ever-smaller dimensions until it was the same size as the smoke of a demon. “Now, _you_ are _my_ bitch.”

“ _The spell demands I work for you, witch. But it does not demand that you be in charge”_. Without warning, it sprang from its place on the other side of the room where it had condensed, and in a very similar way to a demon, shoved itself into Rowena's being.

She gagged and collapsed, her body shuddering violently as the affects of the Darkness being inside her took hold. Choking and gasping, she lie there on the ground for minutes on end, convulsing and jerking every which way, then falling still and silent. After a second of not moving, her hand shakily grabbed the edge of her bed-frame, hoisting her up.

She stood there for a moment, catching her breath. Her hair was disheveled and in a massive, tangled mess, and she'd somehow managed to get a nasty cut on her cheek. Before a single drop of blood could escape her veins though, it sealed itself shut. With a flutter of her eyelids, her eyes popped open to reveal the same black as a demon's.

The Darkness, through Rowena, laughed. In both their voices it said “ _I_ am in charge.”

She walked up the stairs and out of the house. The scenery was far different than it was the night before; instead of quaint little houses surrounded by quaint little yards in quaint little neighborhoods, with the city's skyline on the horizon, there was nothing. Every building in the city, from central Phoenix to the outlying cities like Scottsdale and Peoria, had all been demolished.

Rowena stood there alone, surrounded by nothing but volcanic ash where a city once stood. Even the mountains that ringed the city were flattened – it looked like a nuclear war-head had gone off. Looking around, she smiled. Enjoying the scenery that was blanketed by the glow of the rising sun, she laughed.

 

Now that they were back at the bunker, and Sam was with them, Dean could finally relax. Everything seemed to be looking up, at least for now. His little brother was there, so was Charlie, and Cas hardly ever left his side. That weird lady Cleopatra had gone off to Florida and she wasn't back yet, so it was almost like old times. The only thing different was Life, but Dean could get over that. After all, he had saved Sammy from the three wraiths that they'd dealt with in what seemed like another life, _and_ he'd brought Sam back from the dead. That gave him some serious bonus points where Dean was concerned.

The icing on the cake was the Darkness. It wasn't around anymore, which should have set him on edge like it did everyone else, but he was totally okay with it. They were in the bunker, which Life had safe-guarded for them time and time again, and if they were there then what bad could happen? So what if it had ruined their vacation; they still got to have one (even though it was shorter than they would have all liked), and now they were back and nothing was wrong.

But now that they were back, that meant that they had to work.

Sam and Charlie had immediately gone to the books and the internet to try to find the Darkness, or Rowena or Crowley. As they did that, he and Cas had gone around the world, trying to find any sort of ancient lore they could to combat the Darkness. Dean had _loved_ visiting other countries. He found Rome so _enchanting_ , but Castiel had said that that was because it was covered in millennia of pagan magic. He also found Istanbul to be fascinating, even Mecca he'd enjoyed. And the fact that he'd be able to be on the other side of the world, but still be able to sleep in his own bed (well, not his _own_ ; he and Cas now had equal claim over it) each night just made it better. Traveling the world with an angel was _definitely_ his style.

It was also helpful traveling with him because no matter _where_ they were, Cas knew the language. He'd claimed it was because he was an angel and they all instinctively knew every human tongue, but Dean knew better. He knew Cas, and knew that the angel had probably spent centuries studying each and every earthly language he could. They'd found, surprisingly, _loads_ of information as they toured the Mediterranean. Sure, the Darkness was per-biblical, but so were a lot of the cities they were in. There were little passages of pagan scripture everywhere, talking about a great evil that none had the power to contradict, but there were also tales of how the region's gods, along with their friends, drove the evil out. This piqued Castiel's curiosity more than Dean's, and when they'd gone back to the bunker that night, he had relayed the information to Life who was _also_ more than curious. However, Sam and Dean were repulsed.

“Gods are dicks.” Dean had said. “They eat people and burn things and ruin lives.”

Life gave him a withering look. “Those are my children you're talking about.”

Dean choked on his coffee. “ _Your kids?_ ”

“They had to come from _somewhere_.”

“Hate to break it to you, but most of 'em are dead by now, probably.” Sam butted in. “I mean, we've killed tons of gods ourselves, not to mention all of the other hunters out there. And there was that one time with Lucifer in that hotel. You remember, Dean?”

“Course I remember. That was where he ganked your boyfriend.” Dean smiled antagonistically. Sam shot daggers out of his eyes at his brother.

“Gabriel wasn't my boyfriend. He wasn't even my _friend_.”

Between their bickering, Life had grown silent and stormy. His mood had suddenly changed to match the dark sky outside. Since the Darkness had apparently disappeared, the rain had returned and it was almost non-stop since they'd come home.

“Tell me this story.” He said quietly, looking up from where he was glaring at the table. Sam and Dean fell silent next to him.

“What?” Sam asked, unsure of what Life had said.

“What happened with Lucy and Gabriel and the gods?” He looked at each brother fiercely.

“Well, uh...” Dean began. “This one time we were in the middle of a huge storm and we stopped for the night in some hotel in the middle of nowhere. Turns out, the hotel was magical and run by a group of gods who wanted to use us to stop the Apocalypse.” He stopped and let Sam take over.

“Yeah, and Gabriel was there as Loki, and he tried to convince them to let us go. They didn't and Lucifer came, and he killed 'em all. Except one – what was her name?” He looked at Dean to refresh his memory.

“Kali.”

“Right, Kali.”

“How many gods were there, do you remember?” Life asked almost impatiently.

Sam grimaced as he racked his head. “Maybe... a dozen? I'm not sure, it was like six years ago.”

Life's eyes flared brightly, then he seemed to sink back into a hateful simmer. “Dean, Castiel, continue to search Europe for anything that the Darkness might have let slip when it's given people visions. Sam, tomorrow if you could, can you take Charlie and I to this hotel?”

 


	21. Chapter 21

Bright and early the next morning, the three of them were sitting in the Impala, cruising down the highway. They had quiet the distance to travel – the hotel was, the last time Sam had seen it, in Indiana, and they were in central Kansas. They had to drive through two states and multiple cities to get there, and no one was looking forward to the trip.

Eventually, Life got so fed up with driving that when they were a half-hour away from the Kansas-Missouri state line, he teleported them to Indianapolis. In doing so, he shortened the amount of time they had to spend sitting in the car to almost a quarter of what it was, but now they had to figure out which way to go.

“It was outside of Muncie.” Sam said. They had parked outside of some Gas-N-Sip on the southern end of the city, not too far from the main highway.

From the back, Charlie sighed in relief. She looked up from her Indiana State Map and into Sam's crystalline greenish-gold eyes. “Muncie's just north-east of here. Can't be more than a two hour's drive away.” Life smiled at her words. Two hours was better than an entire day of driving.

Before long, they were on the same road that Sam and Dean had traveled down all those years ago. It was still empty, still broken up, still lifeless, but now Sam was familiar with it. They rounded a bend in the road that was hidden by some trees, and there off to the left, was the hotel. The Elysian Fields.

Sam pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. All three of them climbed out, Life looking up in wonder and Charlie glancing around with a weird mixture of boredom and curiosity. Sam himself was staring at the building, the sight bringing back many memories and mixed emotions for him.

“This building... It's warded against all sorts of things. It's definitely high-level god magic. And more powerful than any one pantheon could have formed by itself.” He was talking to himself more than anyone, but Sam and Charlie both nodded their understanding. “Let's go inside.” His voice was tense and carefully still.

They walked up the short steps to the lobby and stopped in front of the wide glass doors. With a chuckle, Life flicked his wrist and from within the lock mechanism, a tiny _click_ was heard. Shaking his head, Life said “No wonder Lucy was able to get in so easily despite their defenses. They ignored the most important thing. The front door.” He rolled his eyes and strolled into the dimly lit room, stopping immediately as he did so.

He halted so abruptly, Sam and Charlie almost ran into him. He snapped his fingers and the lights flicked on, casting the entire structure in a warm yet formal glow. Without speaking he looked around, listening to the silence and taking in the stillness of the lobby. Turning abruptly and glancing at the two mortals behind him, he strode over to the receptionist's counter and peered behind it. Once he caught sight of what was on the floor, he sighed miserably and went behind the counter himself.

Bending down, he picked something up off the floor. Neither Sam nor Charlie knew what it was until he placed it on the counter in front of him, then they both gasped in shock. It wasn't a _what_ , he'd picked up, but a _who_. The body of one of the many gods that had taken Sam and Dean prisoner so long ago was now resting on the glowing white plastic of the long desk.

Glowering up at Sam and Charlie, Life raised his hand. Placing it on the god's forehead, he slid it down the man's face, neck, chest, and abdomen until he stopped above his groin, then slid his hand back up.

“Oh Mercury.” Life whispered to the body. “You always were such a silly kid.” Gingerly, he picked up Mercury's head and placed his hand on the back of his neck, directly on his spine. Life's hand glowed an iridescent white for a second, and as it faded the god on the counter drew new breath.

Mercury's eyes flicked open and he stared up at Life with an almost trance-like gaze. “Father?” He said. “You shouldn't... How are you...?”

Life put a finger to his lips and Mercury stopped talking. “The time for answers hasn't come yet. Go to Olympus and warn your siblings that I'm back, and that the Darkness is too if they haven't figured that out already. We'll need their help.”

“But...”

“Go.” Life snapped his fingers, and Mercury was gone.

“Your a very “no nonsense” kind of guy, aren't you?” Sam speculated. Life raised an eyebrow.

“Course not. Nonsense only gets in the way.”

They wandered the hotel for about an hour, exploring every room and every facility they could. As they meandered, Sam's memory returned to him and he pointed them in the direction of the main conference room. It was high up – on the fourth floor of the six-story building – but it didn't take them long to get there. After riding up the luxury elevator, they toured the empty hallway until they found the one leading to the room.

At the sight of that hallway, Life stopped again. Judging by his face he seemed to be extremely angry, but his body didn't reveal any signs of emotion. Sam thought that he could see Life shaking slightly, until he realized that it wasn't _Life_ shaking. It was everything else. The entire building was vibrating with the force of Life's rage, but he didn't look to be at all affected by it.

“These were my sons. My daughters. Creations of my own that God had no interest in helping me with. I poured _millennia_ into forging each and every one of them, crafting them from ideas older than the world itself.” He turned toward Sam, his eyes quite literally blazing with anger. They were a deep crimson surrounded by a halo of gold, and they radiated light like two small candles. “You said Lucifer did this?” He spoke through clenched teeth and a strained smile on his usually gentle face.

Sam nodded. “He came and killed every single one. Except Kali, who we helped escape.”

“Thank you for that.” Life said, nodding and turning toward the carnage of the hall once more. After a quick count, it was discovered that there were eight gods lying there on the floor, untouched by decay or time. “It's a good thing their magic still holds over this place. It's preventing their bodies from deteriorating.” He looked from one to another, his eyes slowly trailing every line of gore, every splatter of godly blood. “In the old world, before humanity, their blood was gold instead of red. _Ichor_ , it was called then. It was gold because _I_ sustained them, not the flesh of mortals. They used to be such... happy creatures, but then I was locked away with the Darkness, and now look at this mess.” His voice had switched from being hard and angry to soft and sad.

Standing from his crouching position next to the nearest of the fallen deities, Life closed his eyes. “Lucy...” He called. “Lucifer, _get here now_.” He snapped and his eyes flew open, glowing a heated mixture of red and gold. After a split second of stillness, a crash came from the end of the hall and Lucifer himself wandered out of an abandoned room. Behind Life and Sam, Charlie was wide-eyed and pale. There was a lot of gore on the ground, much more than she was used to, and now _Satan himself_ was standing in front of her again. Sure, she'd seen him before, but that didn't make his presence any easier to bear.

The archangel stumbled from the room, apparently caught unawares by the impromptu summoning. Once he realized where he was, he looked down at his mess then back up at Life, blinking in mock apology.

“Do you have anything you wish to tell me, Lucy?” Life asked, his voice deadly calm. “Anything about what happened here?”

Lucifer's shoulders bobbed up and down in a shrug. “They were in my way and I needed Sam.” He answered. At Sam's name he smiled and wiggled his fingers like a schoolgirl. Charlie grunted and when Sam looked at her, her expression was a combination of fear and perverted humor.

“So you just... killed them?” They were standing at opposite ends of the corridor, but in the blink of an eye, Life had him pressed against one of the hideously-colored walls, a hand on the archangel's throat. “You killed my children, all because they were in your way? Are you really that damn stupid, Lucy? Have neither your father nor I taught you any better?” He released the struggling angel, who collapsed on the ground, dramatically gasping and clutching his throat. “Leave. Return to your post.” Life snapped again, and Lucifer was gone.

After a tense second, Charlie asked “You're just gonna let him go? He did all this and you're not gonna punish him?”

Life fixed his gaze on her, and she could literally feel his anger pulsing from him. “Hell no, I'm not going to let him go. But I can't do anything to him, right now. The last thing we need is another archangel working with the Darkness, and with Lucifer, you have to be clever. Do anything he doesn't like and he'll change sides in a heartbeat. For now, we have to play by _his_ rules, but once this is all said and done, I'll make his cage look like home sweet home back in Hell.” His glare lowered until he was looking at the slain gods at his feet. “Shield your eyes, this is going to be bright.”

Charlie gave him a confused look, but Sam had enough experience to know what he was saying. Grabbing Charlie's shoulder, he turned her around as he himself looked away. Behind them, light so bright it could easily have come from a supernova erupted from Life, blanketing the gods at his feet. It hit Charlie and Sam with actual physical force from its intensity, nearly knocking them both to their knees. A split second later, and it was gone.

Turning around, Sam and Charlie faced a totally different scene then the one they'd just witnessed. There was no blood on the walls, no innards splashed everywhere, not even a body on the ground. All of the gods were standing, looking around in a dazed confusion. Not one of them seemed to notice the two mortals at the end of the hall. Life walked among them, smiling and laughing and rustling their hair and speaking with them jovially. Eventually though, he gave them all the same speech he gave Mercury – to return to their domains and warn their pantheons of the coming danger, and to make preparations against it.

As the last god – the Egyptian Isis – disappeared, Life turned toward Sam and Charlie again. “You said Gabriel died in here?” Life asked. As Sam nodded sadly, Life continued to look at him. A feeling of comfort washed over the man as Life drank in his mixed emotions, and Sam could feel the knot of tension slipping away under the magic.

“Let's go get him, then.”

 

They opened the doors and walked into the room, glancing around for any sign of the dead archangel. Sam found his body first as Life resurrected the last of the fallen gods, Balder, whom he sent on his way as well.

“Life, he's over here.” Sam called to him from behind an overturned table, crouching next to Gabriel's body and looking down at it forlornly. Life walked over quietly to where he and Charlie were, looking at the body with curiosity. Something didn't seem right about it to him.

Resting his hand on Charlie's shoulder to let her know he needed a little more room, he crouched with them. Gabriel's body wasn't empty like those of the gods were. The places where their power had resided, in the same place a human soul or an angel's grace would be, was black on the gods, but Gabriel's still shimmered with a remnant of something akin to life.

Placing a hand on Gabriel's chest, Life closed his physical eyes to gaze at the angel with only his magical ones. He felt the tiniest flutter of... _something_ deep down in Gabe's uttermost core, but it was heavily shielded and he wasn't one to breach that privacy. This complicated things; he couldn't just resurrect Gabriel because he wasn't actually _dead_ , but nor was he alive... inside of his body at least. Life turned toward Sam and smiled, when Sam looked at him questioningly, he said “He's not dead, Sam. Gabriel's smart. He's still alive.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

Sam's heart fluttered weakly as Life's words sank in.

 _Still alive?_ “But how? I mean, both Dean and I watched Lucifer stab him. We watched him die.” Sam was a bundle of hope and confusion. Everyone in the room could feel his mixed emotions.

“He must of hid part of himself inside of something. Something in which he can manifest and appear, but not something he'd have to sustain.”

“Like what?”

“I don't know Samuel, I'm not really familiar with the thousands of different sorts of technologies that you humans have created. You forget I've been away for a while.” The sudden sass took Sam by surprise.

Charlie the tech genius came to the rescue. “Well there's robots. Is it possible for Gabriel to put part of his grace in a robot? If not, maybe like a video clip or a CD or something?”

“He always was a fan of TV shows.” Sam said, thinking. “When we got out of this hotel, he gave us a DVD that had a message on it from him. He was in the... video. Do you think that could have been it?”

“Very possibly. Where was the last time you saw it?”

“I think after we watched it we just threw it away. It might still be here in the parking lot, actually. _If_ , of course, it didn't like... get ruined or something.”

“You remember what I said earlier?” Life asked. “There's a magical shell around this place, and I'm willing to bet that it protects even the parking lot.”

They ventured outside, Life tugging along Gabriel's body with them. It floated behind him at stomach-level, suspended by nothing but the power of the god-forger. Both Sam and Charlie were glad that they didn't have to walk behind him and risk bumping into the angelic carcass.

Once outside, they started looking through the six trash cans that dotted the parking lot. Sam had already gone through two before he shouted in victory. Charlie and Life looked at him, and he was holding up a DVD case above his head, placing the lid of the garbage can back on.

They came together by the Impala, Sam on one side and the two on the other. “Well, here it is.” Sam slid the video across the roof, where Life slapped his hand on it and picked it up.

The moment he saw what it was, Life grimaced. “ _Casa Erotica?_ Really, Gabriel?” He clucked his tongue. “He never had good taste.” Opening the X-rate cover and grabbing the video, he closed his eyes. He always seemed to close his eyes whenever he needed to concentrate. “Yeah, he definitely touched this.” After a moment, he added. “Let's try this sucker out, see if it works.” He walked over to where Gabriel's body lay on the ground, followed closely by Charlie and even closer by Sam.

Once he reached the “dead” angel, he flicked his wrist and made him float in the air, at the same height as an operating table in a lab. Looking at Sam then at Charlie, Life quite literally _shoved_ the DVD into Gabriel's sternum, straight through his ribcage. Charlie winced at the sound, and Sam's face curdled in revolt. Life inaudibly whispered a couple of words in Enochian and placed his hand over Gabe's face. Almost immediately, the angel jumped like he'd been asleep and something had startled him into consciousness. He shook his head and pinched his eyes shut as if he was trying to dislodge something from his head, and sat up on the invisible gurney Life had created.

“Damn, took you long enough to figure out a way to wake me up.” Gabriel didn't even register Life or Charlie, his attention was all on Sam. “You miss me, big guy?” His smile was so cheesy it hurt.

Sam was suddenly extremely self-conscious. Gabriel... alive. And in front of him. “Not a chance, dirt bag.” Gabriel smiled at the banter and without warning pulled Sam into a bear hug. Letting go, he realized they had an audience.

“Oh hey, it's my favorite uncle!” Gabriel grinned and hugged Life too, then turned toward Charlie. “And who's this pretty little lady?”

“Not someone who's interested in you, wing-man.” Charlie answered.

Gabriel shrugged. “Fair enough. Although...” He looked her up and down, but she grimaced and shook her head.

“Sorry, you're not really _my type_.” It was her turn to let her gaze roam over him, but she didn't do it out of interest. It was merely sarcastic.

“Gabriel, stop hitting on the lesbian.” Sam said, closing his eyes. Gabe gasped and looked down. They all laughed at him.

Together, they walked toward the impala. Once there, Gabriel sat on the hood and looked at Life with a questioning expression. “Hey, if you're back here, does that mean the big bad of the universe is back too?” He looked worried.

“Yep.” Life said. Then to Sam “It's a good thing we came here today. We got a lot done.” He smiled, then glanced at Gabriel. “You'll probably want to see where these dorks are holed up, won't you?”

Before he could answer, Sam said “It might be a good idea to let him know where we are in case we ever need to work together against the Darkness.”

Gabe looked flattered. “Curb your enthusiasm, Samantha.” Sam reddened. “But I agree. I might need to help these mooks out once or twice.”

And just like that, they were back at the bunker, standing outside of the front door. They made their way toward the giant metal contraption, Sam leading the procession. Gabriel looked around in curiosity, taking in the surroundings. They were all talking happily, walking toward the bunker with new-found hope. Sam's hand was resting on the door's handle, in the process of pulling it open when they all heard a flutter of wings behind them.

Turning around, they were met with an unpleasant sight. Michael and Behemoth were standing there, looking at Life impatiently. Michael glanced at Gabriel and smiled slightly, but his sense of duty quickly overcame his desire for family and he said “Life, you might want to come quickly. Disaster has struck.”

Immediately, the group's mood was ruined. “Where?” Life asked.

“Phoenix, Arizona.” Behemoth answered. “Or what was once Phoenix. There's nothing left.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

Dean and Cas were inside of an ancient library deep within Egypt, one that wasn't ever discovered by archaeologists because it was magically hidden. Cas had come into contact with the Egyptian pantheon, and with help from Isis (who had just come from Life), convinced them to allow the two into their library. They had been there for a better part of the day, going through countless papyrus volumes and stone tablets looking for anything related to the Darkness. Since all the writing was hieroglyphic, they didn't have to spend too much time on each tome – if they didn't see the specific set of symbols that represented the Darkness in Ancient Egyptian, they could discard whatever they were reading.

Dean was sitting at a massive stone table, flipping the wooden pages of a text that was older than most of the world's countries. He _hated_ research, and not being able to understand what he was looking at didn't make his mood any better. The fact that Castiel had all but vanished into the deepest recesses of the mile-long library made him even more bitter – he didn't have anyone to talk to, he was bored out of his mind, and he didn't even really know what to look for. He'd tried asking the weird little magical monkeys that hopped around and kept the library in order for help, but despite the enchantments put on them they were still simply animals.

“I'm gonna lose it.” He said to himself. He leaned back and rubbed his eyes with his palms then shrugged to try to ease the knot in his shoulders. “These books are fricken' stupid.” Despite his complaints, he went back to staring at the indecipherable runes on the slabs of wood. Page after bulky page he flipped, scanning each one to see if he could find something, _anything_ , on the Darkness, but turning up empty-handed. Yet another useless book in a library of useless books.

He stayed that way for another hour, grumbling to himself and glancing through ridiculously thick books. He was about to nod off into sleep when something caught his eye on the stone tablet that was now the object of his attention. It _might_ have been the sort of scratchy symbol that Cas had said stood for the Darkness, but it was so worn and decrepit that he couldn't be sure...

Thankfully, the rock wasn't too large or heavy, and he thought he could carry it for a while. Deciding to get up and stretch his legs, he grabbed the tome and took a walk down the unending hall of literature. Occasionally he'd call out for Cas, looking for the angel amid the dimly-lit corridors of bookshelves. For the most part though, he kept his peace. The presence of the pharaoh statues and mummified animals that dotted every corner seemed to demand reverence, and the torches that cast circles of light amid the shadows seemed to detest noise.

After ten minutes of mindless wandering, Dean spied his angel. He was standing on top of a tall ladder that allowed access to the highest shelves, more than a hundred meters above Dean's head. Cas's arm was outstretched in trying to grab a book, but he was just short of reaching his goal. Dean found it humorous to watch the angel struggle in such a seemingly mundane way, but he found it even funnier that Cas had to use magic to shift the entire ladder sideways to get what he wanted.

Cas must have heard him chuckle quietly to himself, because he looked down just as he grabbed the book he was questing for. Rather than crawling down the giant ladder, he merely disappeared and came back into existence not five feet from Dean, cradling his book in his hands.

“Hey, I think I might've found something, but I'm not sure. It's pretty old and worn out, so I can't tell if it's what we need. Wanna take a look?” Dean offered the stone to the angel, who set his own book down on a nearby shelf and grabbed it from him.

Cas studied it for a long minute, then shook his head sadly. “That glyph was originally something about Bastet, the goddess of cats. Hers was an interesting story, but it isn't what we need.”

Dean looked disappointed. “What was her story?” He asked boredly. Anything to not have to go back to _research_.

“She was trapped in some hole with a giant snake named Apep, the deity of Chaos. It's said that she fended off Apep for millennia, preventing him from destroying the world, but eventually he broke free and the only god who could kill him was the Sun God, Ra.” He snapped and the book disappeared, returning to its position where Dean had originally found it.

“That sounds kinda similar to the Darkness and Life. Think there's something in common?” Dean asked. Cas shook his head.

“Apep and Bastet are millions of years younger than Life or the Darkness. I doubt they have anything in common.”

“Well, maybe. How does Ra eventually kill Apep?”

“He binds him in chains, cuts off his head with a knife, then lights him on fire.” Cas answered. “It'll take more than that to kill the Darkness.”

Dean snorted. “Unless we can somehow trap a bunch of smoke in some handcuffs.” He said sarcastically. He looked at Cas. “Why are we even here? We're not gonna find anything. We've been looking all day for even just a _word_ on the Darkness, but we're empty-handed. And we could spend centuries in here just looking at dusty old bricks with scratches on them.” He stepped toward Cas, and pulled the angel closer by the hem of his trench coat. “Let's go back to the bunker and get away from all these smelly old things.” He gently rubbed the side of his nose against Castiel's looking at the angel lustfully.

Cas's breathing hitched in desire, but he didn't act upon his feelings... yet. “I enjoy the smell of the books.” His hands laced together around Dean's neck, and he rested his forehead against the other man's. “But if you want to leave, I'll take you anywhere.”

“Anywhere, huh? 'S that a promise?” Dean's breath was hot and moist against Cas's skin, and it only worked against his rapidly draining will to aspire to chastity.

“ _Anywhere_.” The angel repeated. Dean's musky smell was making him nauseous, and he was totally oblivious to the fact that Dean was as intoxicated with his presence as he was with Dean's.

“Let's go, then. Let's go _anywhere_.” And suddenly, they weren't in the library anymore. They were in what looked like a castle, overlooking a never-ending plain of rolling green hills and short, bushy trees. The sun had just set in Egypt, but it was fully dark wherever they were, the full moon and shimmering stars casting a relaxing, silvery glow upon all the world. In the distance, the gentle push and pull of the ocean could be heard, a constant, eternal lullaby to lull the earth into peaceful slumber.

“Is this a good “anywhere”?” Cas asked. He looked pointedly at the large fireplace that resided in the corner of the large brick room they were in, and a warm blaze sprang to life, crackling merrily and dispelling the nightly chill that told Dean they were somewhere far more north than where they had been a minute before.

Dean looked around in amazement. “This is amazing, Cas.” He turned and kissed the angel on the cheek. “And all for me?” He smiled cheekily.

“Of course.” Cas answered. He kissed Dean gently, the taste of his lips lingering on his mortal's just long enough to get his heart racing and doubt his sanity.

“Where are we, babe?” Dean asked. Not that he cared, he just wanted to hear Castiel's voice again. He _always_ wanted to hear Cas's voice again.

“Northern Scotland. In a place where no mortal can go and no angel cares for.”

“Perfect.” Dean glanced around and saw the large king-sized bed that rested in between the fireplace and the giant window that led out onto a wide balcony, and nodded toward it. “I'm kinda tired. After all, it's been a long day and it's _so late_.”

“Dean, it's hardly nine o'clock.” Cas countered.

Dean faked a yawn. “Still, all that research wore me out. Wanna come lay down with me?” He walked toward the bed, dragging Cas by his hand.

Cas should have realized that Dean had no intention of actually _sleeping_.

 

Deep in the night, long after Dean had fallen asleep, Cas sat there, contemplating his existence. He marveled at the brilliant stroke of luck or fate or _whatever_ that had landed him here, in this room with this man. He marveled at the glorious design of humanity; with all their imperfections, they were to him perfect. At least, _this_ one was. He pulled Dean in a little tighter, feeling every curve and indentation in the man's body as he cradled Cas in his sleeping arms. Not for the first time in his long life, Castiel thanked his father for allowing him to do what he had done, to go where he had gone, and to just simply _be_. Despite the tragedy he's faced, Castiel still believed in the mercy of God and the justice of the universe.

Long he sat there, listening to the rush of the ocean and the gently turn of the world on its axis, both mere background noises to what he really was focused on. Dean's steady breathing and constant heartbeat were songs of peace to Cas. They filled him with a sense of purpose, reminded what he lived for. _Who_ he lived for.

 


	24. Chapter 24

_Dean ran through the woods, avoiding limbs both threatening to decapitate_ and  _trip him. He flung himself to the side as a blast of fire rocked the world to his left, rolling and standing again only to trip over a rock. Ignoring the pain of his scraped knees and bloody hands, he continued to run deeper into the woods._

_He had no idea where he was – at first he had thought he was back in Purgatory, but then he'd crossed a nameless highway and knew he was still in the mortal world. That didn't make any sense to him – he was being chased in exactly the same way as he was in Purgatory. With no escape, no chance at running away from the impending danger, but only death behind him if he didn't keep constantly moving._

_Another inferno sprang to life, this time on his right, and he narrowly avoided catching his sleeve on fire from the such close proximity. Looking around in the light of the fire, he could see vague shapes on either side of him; some human, some not. He recognized who he was running with – Sam was there, and Cas, Charlie, Benny and Life. The one person he_ wasn't  _expecting to see was someone who he hadn't seen in years – the prophet Chuck._

_From behind him he heard a loud hissing sound, followed by a shriek that echoed across the universe. Whatever was chasing them was huge, loud, and infinitely dangerous. Dean knew it could only be one thing – only one thing could scare Life and Behemoth and Cas like that. Turning around whilst still running, the sight Dean saw made his blood freeze in his veins. The Darkness loomed higher and greater and darker than he'd ever seen it; a great billowing cloud of hatred and destruction that was determined to end them all. From beneath it poured all manner of grotesque shadow-beasts, intermingled with humanoid shapes that occasionally erupted into nothing but mouths and bodies._

_Leviathans. The single most dangerous creatures Dean and Sam had ever faced. There were more there than Dean had ever seen in one place. Not even Purgatory had held so many. There were dozens of them, spilling endlessly out of the Darkness in hordes of murderous plenty. They were surrounded by creatures made of the same dark smoke that the Darkness was – giant snakes, swarms of angry bees, bears, tigers, sharks, even dinosaurs and dragons and things Dean didn't have the imagination to be even close to creating a name for._

_Before any of them realized, the Darkness had shepherded them together, sealing them into a meadow that was devoid of trees. It surrounded them with its bulk, great clouds of despair blotting out the sky and preventing them from teleporting away._

_From out of the great black mass stepped one familiar figure. She was hard to make out at first, but as she approached, her form was more and more recognizable. Rowena stood there, a shadow of her former self, her skin and eyes as black as the night and her hair as crimson as blood. Where she walked, everything in her reach died. Trees crumbled to dust, grass and flowers and beauty withered away to nothing. She was Evil. She was Death, Destruction, Fear, Hatred, Misery. Rowena_ was  _the Darkness, and it was she._

_With a voice lower than the deepest chord a bass could strike but simultaneously higher than the chirping of any bird, she spoke. “I will destroy everything!” She laughed, not out of joy but lunacy. “And I will start with all of you.”_

_Suddenly, it was only Dean and Cas standing there. Everyone else had vanished, Charlie and Life and Sam, all of them were gone. Dean and the angel clung to each other, not daring to let go and give the Darkness a chance at ripping them apart. Neither of them could stand to be apart anymore._

_“I won't let you go, Cas.” Dean whispered. “I won't let you down.” Castiel wordlessly nodded._

_Rowena – the Darkness – laughed. As she did, every particle of shadow in the clearing echoed with its force. It was slowly drawing closer to them, circling in like millions of vultures on a dying animal. “Love cannot save you now.” She screamed. “Nothing can save you now!”_

_The Darkness plunged down from the roof it had created, slamming Castiel away from Dean violently. He looked on helplessly as the angel fought off the great cloud, his entire being glowing like a quasar. Wherever his light connected with the Darkness it sizzled and retracted, but even as Dean watched, he slowly faded. Within seconds, the Darkness had extinguished him and hoisted him into the air, dousing the angel with shade and shadow until Dean couldn't see him anymore._

_“Cas! Cas!” Dean shouted, but no answer came. “No. Cas!” He tried to be louder, tried to get the angel to hear him, but even though his throat hurt from the volume he produced, he was answered with nothing more then the cacophony of Leviathan and Darkness surrounding him._

_Broken, Dean sat up from where the Darkness had launched him. “Cas,” he whispered. Tears streamed down his face as the Darkness parted and where his love had been, nothing remained. “Cas.”_

 

Castiel had closed his eyes, gently breathing in Dean's scent as the man slept. When he felt Dean's hands clench around his shirt though, his eyes flicked open. Dean was panting and covered in sweat, but he was still unconscious – having a nightmare. He twitched and jerked under the influence of his dream, his body trying to dodge the obstacles his mind was avoiding. 

“No.” Dean whispered. “No! Run!” He shouted the last word. “Run, guys!” He twitched particularly violently.

“Dean,” Cas said gently, sitting up on the feather-bed. Dean didn't hear him. “Dean!” Still, no reaction.

“Cas!” Dean's voice was strained with terror and sorrow. Just hearing it broke Castiel's heart. “Not Cas, please. Don't take Cas.” He was shaking his head in a jerky fashion.

“Dean!” Cas said loudly. Dean's head flicked away from him in response, his body subconsciously cowering away from the loud noise.

“No, please.” Dean's broken pleading was too much for Cas to bear.

“DEAN.” Cas shouted, magically amplifying his voice to make sure Dean heard him. The fire in the fireplace went out with the sheer force of the noise.

Dean gasped and sat up, his eyes wide and white with terror. He looked around frightfully, not remembering where he was or how he got there. When his eyes registered the angel next to him, he looked Cas up and down as if not believing himself. Under the seraph's questing gaze though, reason asserted itself on his mind, and the fear that threatened to catapult him into madness dissipated slightly.

“Cas?” He asked incredulously. Then, he sighed in relief. “Cas.” Without explanation, Dean leaned forward and kissed Cas full on, catching the angel off guard but reassuring himself of his existence.

After a few seconds, Dean pulled away. His eyes were more clear than they were before, but he was still pale with terror. “It was just a dream.” He said more to himself than to Castiel. “Worst damn dream  _ever_ .”

“Dean...” Cas prodded, not knowing how to form his question. “What...”

“Just a dream.” Dean repeated. He sat forward and rubbed his eyes with his hand, his face turned toward the heavenly being. 

“Tell me about it.” Castiel's voice was gentle, but  it gave no argument. He was going to hear at least a little of what just plagued his boyfriend.

After a few seconds to gather his thoughts, Dean said “We were running in a forest. I thought it was Purgatory, but it wasn't. We were running from the Leviathans again, and the Darkness was there too. They somehow cornered us, then everyone else was gone and it was just me and you.” He looked at the angel, worry contorting his face. “And it took you, and I snapped. I can't lose you. Not again.” He looked pained.

Castiel sat forward and gently placed a kiss on Dean's temple, then his lips. His hand under Dean's chin was firm and soft, but his lips were lighter than a feather – a feeling more gentle and reassuring than any Dean had ever felt. Just being there with Cas, knowing that he, that  _they_ were okay, made Dean relax, but at the angel's touch, he melted. 

“Don't worry, Dean. You won't.” He leaned back on the headboard, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling the hunter into his chest. They sat there for an indeterminable amount of time, soaking in each other's presences and taking shelter together. After a while, Cas said “I think we should ignore Egypt tomorrow and go to Jerusalem instead.”

Dean was grateful for Cas's ability to help him focus on anything but his dream. “Oh yeah? Why?” 

“That area is where God lived as a man. I was thinking, maybe He left a clue behind as a way to fight the Darkness, or a way to find him.”

Dean shrugged, looking down from Cas to the extinguished fireplace. He didn't remember it going out. “Sounds good to me, babe.” He nestled further into the angel's side, wrapping his legs around Castiel's right one.  He yawned and blinked, tired but restless. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

“Do you think it would be possible for that to have been a vision?” Cas asked after some thought. “The Darkness  _can_ apparently make people see things from time to time and you  _are_ closer to it than most people.”

“Closer to it?” Dean looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“You had the Mark. You held the only way for it to get back into our dimension.”

“Doesn't mean I'm closer to it. I was just a doorway is all. But yeah, it could have been, I guess. Weirder things  _have_ happened.  We'll have to ask Life about it soon. ”  He laid his head back down on Cas's chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath. Cas wrapped his arm around Dean's shoulders and kissed the top of his head, his fore-arm tingling where it touched the scar on Dean's shoulder. 

They stayed like that until the sun rose, wrapped in each other's arms and keeping themselves safe from the terrors of the subconscious night. When morning came and cast its golden glow on the green valleys and hills below their fortress, they stirred themselves awake, and after they were ready, left for the Holy Land.

 


	25. Chapter 25

Life's brow furrowed at Behemoth and Michael. They'd been having such a _good_ day, now these two bratty Archangels had to come and ruin it all. How typical of them.

Sighing, he nodded at them and sent them off. After they'd gone, he turned back to Gabriel, Sam, and Charlie, who were standing there watching him. He looked at Gabriel most of all, his eyes squinting in thought.

“It's probably best if you stay here, Gabe.” He said. “You've been technically dead for years. You need to rest, conserve your strength.” He gave Gabriel a subtle look, one only someone who had spent eons of time with him could decipher. Gabriel, of course, recognized it immediately.

 _Enjoy your time with Sam_. It said.

“Sure thing, old man.” Gabe answered. “Nothing I like more than lounging around with a couple of hotties like these two.” He looped his arms around Charlie and Sam, who both promptly pulled away from him.

“Gabriel, you're an idiot.” Sam muttered. Life smiled at them both, then shrugged at Charlie apologetically.

“I'll see you guys later, I guess.” Then he was gone, vanished into thin air.

“Come on Gabriel, let me show you around.” Sam said nervously. He unlocked the bunker door and strode in, followed closely by Charlie and the angel. A little _too_ closely by Gabriel.

Sam gave him a quick tour of the residence while Charlie went to take a shower. She'd somehow gotten blood from one of the gods on the back of her neck, and she didn't like the way it tingled against her skin. It was also on her favorite blue shirt, but was slowly turning it a nasty orange color.

Gabriel walked everywhere with an approving nod and a contemplative frown. “Not a bad gig you got here, Sammy.” He said. It sounded sarcastic but it was completely honest. “I'm impressed.”

“Good. I'm … glad you like it.” Sam had no idea how to deal with Gabriel's attitude. It wasn't Dean's grumpy sass, nor was it Castiel's awkward naivety. Whatever it was, it was refreshing. Something _new_ , even though Sam had technically known Gabriel for years.

“Relax big guy. I'm not gonna hurt you.” Gabriel could sense the tension that kept Sam as rigid as a taught bow string, but didn't know how to deal with it. Gabriel knew that Sam liked him, but he _also_ knew that Sam wasn't capable of admitting that just yet. Best to get him comfortable before getting him... _comfortable_. To show that there was no hostility between them, he threw himself down on the couch, snapping and creating a gigantic bucket of popcorn out of nothing. “Got any good movies to watch?” He asked, right before shoveling a handful of the buttery corn kernels into his mouth.

Sam was bewildered and fascinated by the laid-back archangel. “Uh... yeah. Hold on a sec, let me go get 'em.” He walked away, coming back a few seconds later with a big crate full of all sorts of movies, from _Black Beauty_ to _The Hobbit; Battle of Five Armies_ . Gabe looked through them boredly, finally deciding on _Mission Impossible 2_.

“This one's pretty good!” Gabe held up the DVD triumphantly, handing it toward Sam so he could put it into the video player he'd bought ages ago.

Sam grabbed it, but he didn't pay it much thought. He was too busy _thinking_. “Should we really be watching a movie right now? Dean and Cas are who knows where, Life just went to one of the largest cities in the country because apparently it's not there anymore, and you've literally been alive for less than a day.”

“Hey, you heard what Life said. There's not much we can do right now, bud. So relax, take it easy!” He nodded toward the DVD in Sam's hand, who subsequently sighed and stood back up to put it into the player.

They watched the movie in relative silence, mainly because of Sam. He was on edge, but he didn't know why. He felt like he was supposed to be doing something, and no matter how much he wanted to relax with Gabriel, he just... couldn't. As the film progressed though, he found himself unwinding, his tense body uncoiling every time he heard Gabriel laugh at a funny part, or criticize what the characters did wrong. At the end, he was actively doing much the same things, calling out broken plot lines and harassing the people on screen.

At one point in time, Sam found his way onto the same couch as the angel, something along the lines of “share the popcorn” being the reason. Honestly, he enjoyed the closer proximity and was secretly bummed out when the movie ended and they had to separate.

Gabriel must have somehow sensed his emotions, because as Sam was taking out the finished movie, he started digging through the crate again. “What do you say, Sammy? Watch another one with me?” He asked. Sam was all too willing to oblige. Unfortunately however, they were rather rudely interrupted by a rustle of wings coming from the meeting room.

Cas and Dean came quickly into the lounge, obviously looking for something. When Dean saw Gabriel, he had to do a double-take.

“You're alive?” He was more than confused. “We watched you die!” Before Gabriel could respond, he turned to Sam. “Where'd Life go?”

“Nice to see you again too, Mighty Mouse.” Gabriel muttered loud enough for only Sam to here.

“Behemoth and Michael came and dragged him to Phoenix. Why, what's up?”

“We need to talk to him.” Cas's stern voice and even more stoic gaze cut through Sam's relaxation. He could handle Dean acting all skittish, but he _knew_ Cas would only be so fierce if something was amiss.

“What's wrong?” Sam stood and turned toward them. “Something happen?”

“Nothing's wrong. We might have a way to find God.”

“Really? What is it?” Even Gabriel was interested now.

“We'll tell you later. We need to talk to Life.”

“Tell me what?” Life stood in the doorway to the hall, his brow furrowed and his eyes downcast. “Another city hasn't been blasted out of existence, has it?” He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers.

“What? No.” Dean looked at him askance. “We think we found a way to find God.”

That caught Life off guard. “Oh? Tell me.” He led the way into the command center, turning on the giant table with the glowing map with a snap. “How are we to do this?”

“We were going through a library in Egypt, and we decided to stay the night... there.” Dean lied. “In the middle of the night, I had a dream that Cas thinks was a vision, then we went to Jerusalem and found _this_.” From a bag he was carrying, he pulled out a slab of wood that look to be as old as Christianity itself. On it were inscribed a bunch of Hebrew letters, but there was also some Latin and Greek around the edges.

Life's eyebrow quirked upward. “To find the King of all Creation, speak to the prophet that never existed.” He looked up at Dean tiredly. “And how do you think we should talk to a person that doesn't exist?”

“Cas and I thought that out, too.” Dean was more animated than Sam had seen him in a long time. Probably because of Cas. “You see, in my dream-vision, there was a prophet that we met a long time ago, during the Apocalypse. His name was Chuck.”

“So?”

“ _So,_ we knew that Dean's vision and finding this weren't coincidental. Especially not in such a close time frame. There must be some connection.” Castiel looked up at Life expectantly. “Can you find Chuck? Is he still alive?”

“What's his full name? What does he look like?” Life asked. He was still skeptical.

“Chuck Shirley. Little shorter than me, curly brown hair, thick beard, likes prostitutes.” Dean said, motioning with his hands.

“No. I can't find him.” Life answered almost immediately. “And as far as I can tell, no man like that with the name of _Chuck Shirley_ ever existed.”

“What's goin' on, bitches?” Charlie walked into the room, looking at everyone curiously. “What's all the commotion about?”

“We're close to finding God.” Cas answered. She blinked in surprise.

“Nice.”

“Except the man these two are using as our gateway to God doesn't exist.” Life said irritably.

“He exists, Life. All three of us have seen him before.” Sam said motioning to himself, his brother, and Cas.

“Then he's not who he says he is, Sam.” Life answered. “Either way, I can't find him. He's hidden from me, either by death or by power stronger than mine. If God wanted us to talk to this Chuck guy, he isn't making it easy.” He turned toward Dean, who was on the other side of the map-table and was whispering into Cas's ear. “Tell me about this vision. _All_ of it.”

Dean paused and looked at him. After glancing back at Cas, he quickly recounted the dream in its entirety, making sure to include even the smallest details. Life listened with almost dangerous intensity, his eyes never leaving Dean's face except to glance at the vague hand gestures Dean spoke with. When he was finished, he look down at the table thoughtfully.

“Who all did you say was running with you?” Life asked.

“Cas, Sam, Charlie, you, Chuck, Behemoth, and like four other people whose faces I never saw.” He crossed his arms and waited for a response.

“Probably the four archangels.” Life said without looking up. As he focused on the glowing map within the table, parts of it started to light up with tiny flecks of gold. They were scattered around the globe, the largest one being just over the little black dot that marked where Phoenix, Arizona had been before the Darkness.

“What are these?” Charlie asked. She was standing in between Gabriel and Castiel at the far end of the table, and the way she was slightly leaning against the edge with her hair cascading down her chest made her look like some fiery war goddess.

“Spots of demon activity from the past week.” Life answered. “Dean, you said that the Darkness had taken over Rowena's body. If that's true, then Rowena must have been in Phoenix last night; I'm willing to bet that's what brought the Darkness there in the first place. _But_ , I've been keeping tabs on all of the demons too, and as it turns out, _Crowley_ was also in Phoenix when disaster struck.” Suddenly, all of the little lights on the table went out. “This is an hour after the Darkness wiped out the city. It's bizarre that they happened at about the same time. I have a feeling that they're working together.” He let the statement linger in the air for a split second. “Unless someone has their hands on the demon tablet and is toying with them on a global scale, but I seriously doubt that. Nobody's seen that thing since before I was stuck in Lucifer's arm.”

Castiel looked down at the ground, not even capable of looking at Dean. “It's actually quite possible.” He muttered. Everyone looked at him in confusion.

“What do you mean it's possible?” Dean asked him. No one noticed that he'd put his arm around the angel's waist.

Instead of answering, Cas looked at Sam. “You never told him how we got my grace back?” Sam shook his head, making Cas sigh. Turning back to Dean, he said “We freed Metatron from heaven, but we took his grace so he couldn't do anything. After that, we used him to take me to a library where the last of my grace was hidden. What I didn't know was that the demon tablet was there, too. In the end, he cast a spell on me that left me disabled and he ran off with it.”

Dean looked furious. " _You freed Metatron?”_ Unconsciously, he took a step back to separate himself from his boyfriend. “What the hell were you two thinking?” He glared between Sam and Cas, not able to look at one of them for more than a couple of milliseconds before his rage forced him to look at the other.

“Why was Metatron even in jail?” Life asked. “The kid always seemed kinda sweet to me. Total bookworm.”

Dean rounded on him. “He's anything but a sweet little bookworm. He's probably the biggest douche heaven's created since Lucifer.”

Life shrugged, then looked at Cas. “You say Metatron has the demon tablet now?” He looked relieved. “Then there's a chance that the Darkness hasn't taken over hell yet. And I think Hannah will be happy that Metatron lost his grace – it'll make him a lot more... submissive. I'll have someone find him and get the tablet from him, then take him back up to heaven. With the tablet, I can make sure the Darkness doesn't get into hell, and no demon leaves it.” He waved his hand, and the golden lights on the map appeared again, but this time there were only three. One was hovering over Vancouver, another over Easter Island. The last was situated in Bangladesh, and it was this one Life seemed most interested in.

After looking at all three dots separately, he grimaced. “That sucks.” He said to no one in particular.

“What now?” Dean asked.

“The only person I can get to look for Metatron has... a history.” Life glared at the Bangladesh dot.

“Who is it?” Charlie asked. Life looked up at her.

“Lucifer.”

 


	26. Chapter 26

The room fell silent at the name, the mere mention of Lucifer causing tension. After a second, Dean said "As long as he stays away from Sam, we should be okay, right? I mean come on, he has as much to lose as the rest of us. He won't do anything stupid will he?"

"No, hopefully not." Life answered. "But that'll be the trick – him staying away from you guys."

"Yeah, for real." Gabe interjected. "Lucy's always been s _uper_ possessive. Over everything. _Especially_ his vessels." He looked pointedly at Sam.

"But he has no reason to be possessive over me any more." San was hating the idea of freeing either of the archangels from hell for exactly this reason.

"He has his own body now _and_ I was never his property to begin with."

"But you _were_ his body at one point, bucko. And to an archangel that's basically saying you're his world." Gabriel's face was strangely soft in a way that Sam couldn't interpret, even though everyone else could. It was the same look that Dean and Cas gave each other all the time. Dean caught the look and his eyes narrowed contemplatively. "Archangel" was an ambiguous term, and Dean had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't talking about the evil one when Gabe said that Sam was one's world.

Sam however, missed the doey eyes completely. He was too busy focusing on the repercussions of the words. "But... He has no reason to even come near me. He'll be searching for _Metatron_ , not me."

"But knowing him, he'll come to us with any news first. Cause he's a douche." Dean said.

"Then I'll hear him out, and kill him." Sam answered.

"It would be better if you didn't." Cas was still looking at the map; the only one to be doing so. "We need as much help as we can gather to fight the Darkness, _including_ Lucifer."

“Castiel is right.” Even Life sounded reluctant to admit it. “I think we can all agree that Lucifer is the least favorite of the archangels. But no matter how much we all hate him, we _must_ use him. Besides, now that the Darkness is out and not screwing with anyone's heads anymore,” He looked directly at Dean “maybe he'll turn around. He wasn't as much of a dick before we threw the Darkness out, after all.”

Sam snorted. “I doubt it. I remember how angry he felt at everything, even after _years_ of not being anywhere near him. Stuff like that... people don't get over easily. They don't just change overnight.”

Cas's head bobbed sideways. “That's the thing. He's not a person, he's an angel. Your emotions are far less predictable than ours. If any angel would seem to do something, so would the rest of them.”

“Except for you rebels.” Dean's look of fondness at Cas made the angel blush.

“And Lucy was a rebel.” Gabe said. “Hell, so was I. Now look at us.”

Sam looked miserable. “I still don't understand why he'd come to us and not just to you, Life. It's not like we're always in contact.”

“I'm in contact with you far more often than with him. And I've had to venture off to places not even archangels can go recently, and I'll have to visit a lot more places like that soon. It might actually be helpful if he comes to you.” He wasn't looking at Sam as he spoke, but rather at Gabriel – with the same look he'd given him outside the bunker. _It'll be helpful for the two of you._

Gabriel understood the look, but not what Life meant by it. He sent back a silent question; _how?_ Then audibly to Sam, “We'll be able to handle him if he does show up, big guy. He won't try anything with Cas and I around.”

“I'm not sure he'd be empathetic enough to do more than deliver his message.” Life said. “Either way, he's our best shot at finding Metatron. And unfortunately that means you'll be in contact with him.” He looked around the room, drinking in the emotions. “I'm going to go give him the low down, hopefully he'll be back with Metatron and the demon tablet by sun-down.” As everyone nodded their assent, he disappeared.

“I wish I were back in Oz.” Charlie looked forlornly at the map.

They gradually all left the room, dispersing to do their separate pass-times. Sam and Gabriel went to the library to do research, Charlie went on a food run, and Dean and Cas simple went to take a nap.

Before long, Charlie came back with ample amounts of food, most notably the pie that Dean so constantly craved. She joined Gabe and Sam in the library, more for their company than for anything else. After a while, she settled into her favorite armchair with a huge book about pre-Christian witchcraft, skimming page after page about magic granted to humans by different gods. She didn't really find much about the Darkness, though. The closest thing she _did_ find was about a black cat the size of a house that stalked the woods of ancient Romania, which was said to be able to destroy entire cities with its virulent breath.

Gabriel and Sam weren't having much luck, either. Gabriel used his archangel abilities to read more books in the few hours they sat there than a human could in an entire lifetime, but he still found nothing. Sam dug through countless books as well, but they were all too recent to be of any use against the Darkness.

As Charlie neared the end of her book, she noticed a strangely worded sentence penciled into the binding at the bottom of one of the old pages. After studying it for a few minutes, she realized it was in another language entirely.

“Hey Gabriel, you know what this says?” Charlie handed it to him, and he looked down at it with a curious expression.

“That's an old language.” Was all he said. “Either Akkadian or Sumerian.”

“Can you read it?” Charlie was lounging in her chair, her legs kicked up over one of the arms, but now she sat up and look at the angel intensely.

“Hells yeah, I can. I'm older than both of those languages.” He smiled and looked at the writing again. Suddenly, he chuckled. “Translating it into English gets funny sometimes, though. Like this.” He set the book down on the table and pointed at the words. “It says “Evil bound bad book”.”

“Evil bound bad book?” Sam laughed too, then got more serious. “What could that mean?”

“Obviously that some sort of evil is connected to some sort of evil book, duh.” Gabe said.

“Like the Book of the Damned?” Charlie asked. “I mean, we couldn't destroy it, and it _was_ the book that held the spell that freed the Darkness in the first place. Could that be what this is talking about?”

“I doubt it. The Sumerian is old, but the book it's in isn't. Where'd you find this thing anyway? It looks like it was written maybe...” He sniffed the spine “early eighteen hundreds? Not nearly old enough to be of any use. Whoever wrote that in must've just been fooling around or something. I wouldn't put too much hope into it.”

“It's better than nothing.” Sam said. “Might as well keep tabs on it just in case.”

They dismissed Charlie's find as wishful thinking, and continued to scour the rest of the library. They didn't get too long to look though, because fifteen minutes in, they heard an obnoxiously loud banging coming from what sounded like the front door.

At the sound, they all froze, listening for the noise again. When it repeated itself, Sam grabbed his gun, Charlie her knife from Oz, and Gabriel his archangel blade, and the three of them proceeded to creep cautiously down the hallway toward the door, not knowing what to expect.

 

Dean and Cas were asleep on Dean's bed, spooning. This time Castiel was the little spoon, as often was the case. Even he had been comfortable enough to be able to fall asleep, even though he didn't need to. Wrapped in Dean's arms and feelings Dean's heart and breath through his back, he knew he could lie there forever and not ever have to move – if _Dean_ didn't want to, of course. Dean's head was nuzzled up against Cas's neck, his breath sliding down the angel's bare back and making his nerves tingle. Dean had insisted they both take off at least a _little_ bit of clothing, complaining that sleeping in jeans and coats was uncomfortable at best, and Cas had obliged. Now, they were both laying there curled up, Dean in his boxers and Cas in Dean's favorite pair of pajamas.

Dean _loved_ the feeling of Cas being next to him, in his arms. He _loved_ the feeling of Cas's chest expanding and contracting as the angel drew breath, he _loved_ the steady _thump, thump, thump_ of the angelic heartbeat that he could call his. It was this that woke him up.

 _Thump, thump, thump_. It was loud. Weirdly loud, and only for three beats. At first Dean thought he'd imagined it, it only lasted a split second then faded away. He lifted his head and looked down on Castiel's face, seeing if he was awake or not. When Dean saw that he wasn't, he laid his head back down on the pillow, contenting himself to wrap Cas into him one more time.

 _Thump, thump, thump_.

Dean was immediately alert and sitting straight up. Cas felt him move and awakened, rolling over to look up at him. Now they could both hear quieter noises; socked feet shuffling quietly on the concrete floors, the gentle clink of metal that signaled the presence of magical artillery, hushed whispers coming from down the hall toward the library.

Their eyes connected and for a split second, they just sat there. Then, like a rebounding spring, the both jumped into action, hastily pulling on clothes and bolting out of the door, only to run into Gabriel and Charlie.

“What the hell?!” Dean shouted as he extricated himself from the archangel. Cas was a cacophony of apologies as he picked up Charlie from where he'd knocked her over.

Before anyone could answer, Sam's hand was on his shoulder. “Dean, there's someone at the door.” So naturally, everyone's first reaction was to grab the nearest deadly object.

The pounding came again, and they all walked toward it, Sam in the lead with Dean immediately behind. Then came Cas, then Charlie, and bringing up the rear came the archangel. They arranged themselves around the door. Dean grabbed the handle and pulled it open wide, revealing the single most hated face from all of Sam's memory.

Lucifer.

 

Life stood close to the center of the giant pile of ash and dust that was once the sixth largest city in the nation. Phoenix had once been a teeming metropolis of a million and a half people; a swarming maze of businesses and residential buildings that stood resilient against the sweltering heat of the environment it was built in. Now, there was nothing but a level gray field for miles around. Where mountains used to block the way, he could see for miles. Where buildings used to scratch at the ceiling of the world, the sky was left untouched. It filled him with sorrow to see so much life, so much _beauty_ wasted. Destroyed so utterly, that not even the souls of the civilians who once lived here remained. The Darkness tainted them into becoming demons – demons powerful enough to be considered a new batch of Knights.

That isn't what concerned Life, though. He was worried about the repercussions of what had happened here, to cause the Darkness to come and kill 1.5 million people outright, and to ruin the lives of so many more by doing so. Above all, he worried about where the Darkness would strike next in the world – what else it might be up to.

He knew it was now using Rowena's body as a vessel of sorts. He could feel it inside her sometimes, when they both let their guards down and he could slip into her consciousness. It was still as angry and hateful and destructive as it had always been, if anything even _worse_ being trapped away with him for so long. And it was only a matter of time before it tore her apart like flour trying to smother a flame.

The sound of wings flapping stirred him from his melancholy reverie. Turning around, he came face to face with Michael. Life smiled to himself at the sight of the archangel. He reminded Life so much of God, it was almost comical.

“What news, Michael?” Life asked. His voice was quiet; the atmosphere of death and destruction around them demanded a certain reverence, even from him.

“Lucifer saw the Darkness hovering over Scotland, uncle. It was remote and the Darkness looked weakened, but he chose not to confront it.”

“Scotland? What's in Scotland that could possibly draw the attention of the Darkness?” Life asked himself more than Michael.

“Lucy said he saw some castle before the Darkness overwhelmed the area. It was enchanted to keep anything weaker than God or you or Death out, but the Darkness pushed the magic aside easy.”

“A magical castle?” He looked around. “What, angry at fairy-tales now?” Turning back to Michael, he asked “Do you know where this place is?”

“Yeah. Lucy showed me before you had him run his errand. Want me to show you?” Life nodded, and they vanished.

A split second later, they were standing in a much similar scene, with a few drastic differences. The sound of the ocean could be heard far in the distance, and the land here wasn't as completely leveled as Phoenix was. Gently rolling hills evolved from within each other across the country side, but they were still blanketed in a thick coat of ash that swallowed their feet.

The most notable differences however, were two things. One, the weather was significantly colder here – pretty much anywhere was significantly colder than Phoenix in the middle of August during a drought. The second thing was the giant shell of a castle that loomed on the tallest hill, its walls scorched black and its many roofs completely destroyed. Wordlessly, Life arched an eyebrow at Michael.

Together, they entered the fortress. The walls were weak and crumbling, the windows glassless and open. The moon hung over their heads through the empty ceiling. It was mid afternoon in Phoenix, but Scotland was far ahead of Arizona, and the sun didn't shine his face there anymore.

They wandered the floor, searching great piles of rubble halfheartedly. Life's nose tingled with a familiar scent, one that he'd been close to recently. It caused him to sneeze multiple times, intermingling with the dust that was inevitably all-encompassing.

“Do you smell that?” Life asked. Michael turned to gaze at him, his brown eyes almost silver in the moonlight.

“It smells like a Winchester.”

 


	27. Chapter 27

Sam glared at the archangel from across the door, his gaze alone enough to unsettle the celestial being of pure light on the other side of the threshold.

Nobody moved for a dramatic second, or said anything. Lucifer looked at them like they were crazy, each one holding a different weapon that was useless against him. The only _real_ threat was Gabriel, but even he was nothing compared to the Morning Star.

“Aren't you going to let me–”

“No.” Sam's definitive answer came so quick and final, it made Lucifer blink. “No, we're not going to let you in. I did that once, and it screwed me up for years afterward.”

“We can talk about marital issues later, 'kay hon? I have a couple important messages to relay, and I don't want to do it out here.” Lucifer's head cocked sideways in his typical sarcastic style, but no one showed any sign of humor.

“What do you want, brother?” Gabriel asked. “Did you find Metatron?”

“Hell yeah I found him... what's left of him anyway. But I found something else too. A couple of 'something elses'. Where's Life?”

“Not here. He went to go find you like ten hours ago.” Sam was so tense, Dean thought he might spontaneously combust.

“And he did. …Obviously.” 

“What?” Life's voice was so stern and piercing, even the archangels flinched. He was standing behind Lucifer with his arms crossed, Michael standing beside him. “ Where's Metatron?”

“Dead. You should come see.” 

“Metatron's dead?” Cas looked unbelieving. 

“Yes he's dead! Now can we talk in a more pleasant atmosphere, or are we just going to stand here and question each other until the Darkness comes and swallows us all whole?” Lucifer crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the bunker, fake-pouting.

Life sighed and rubbed his temples. “We can't stay here – the two of you can't get through the wards I put on this place.” He looked at the mortals arrayed before him, thinking. “As a matter of fact, why don't the three of us take a trip to where you've been, Lucy, and leave these guys to rest.”

“We're rested enough.” Sam answered immediately. “What do you think we do here all day? It's not like we can go back to hunting ghosts and chasing down vampires.”

“Still as feisty as ever.” Lucifer looked at Sam like he was a prize piece of meat. Both Sam  _and_ Gabriel caught the look, and Gabe intentionally put himself between them.

Life glared at Lucifer, then turned to the rest of the group. “Fine, come with us.”  He cast the most smothering glance ever at the devil, and said “Take us away.”

 

They stood in a diner, in the middle of Philadelphia, the streets teeming with people despite it getting late. Despite the noise of the city outside, the diner was silent. And completely empty when it should have been full of people.

“Where are we?” Sam asked. He walked up to the window and looked out at the surrounding street signs to try to gauge their position.

“Philadelphia.” Lucifer answered. “The last place  _he_ was  alive.” He pointed at the one person that hadn't traveled with them – the body that was slumped against the wall underneath one of the quaint little booths. Metatron.

Life walked over to the corpse and studied it intensely, pulling it out into the open for all to see. After a few seconds of poking and prodding, he stood and sighed.

“He's not dead.” He looked at Lucifer with a smoldering expression. “He's asleep, but so unconscious only God could have put him under.” Life snapped and Metatron jumped, his eyes flicking open and  his mouth opening in a surprised gasp. 

He looked around at the people surrounding him, and knew he was in deep trouble. Castiel alone looked livid enough to be able to rip his jugular out without a second thought. And that was only  _Cas –_ everyone else standing there glowering down at him looked just the same.

“Good morning, Metatron.” Life said without any form of benevolence. 

“Life!” Metatron was as slippery as Lucifer in his own way, and he felt he might need to use that cunning to his advantage right now. “It's good to see you again!”

“Save it.” Life's eyes were dark and stern and otherworldly. “We know you have the demon tablet, but that will no longer do.  _I_ want it.”

“I don't have it.” Metatron stuck his bottom lip out in an innocent pout, but Life didn't budge.

“Liar.  Castiel saw you take it, and you've been using it, haven't you?” Life's condescending look made Metatron cower in fear.

“I'm not lying, honest! Yeah, I had it and I  _did_ use it, but I don't have it anymore.” He was still sitting on the ground where Life had woke him up, but at his words Life pounced on him and knocked him back down with his hands on his shoulders.

“Quit lying to me, Metatron. Where's the tablet?”

“ _I. Do. Not. Have. It._ God took it.” Metatron glared up at Life, who stood up in shock. 

“Where were you when he took it from you?”

“Literally right there.” Metatron pointed at the booth he was under, his half-eaten pancakes a cold, smelly mess on the table.

Life stood and examined the booth thoroughly, sliding his fingers and his eyes across every surface he could find, looking for something. After a minute of him searching and everyone staring at him, he stood erect and looked at them all.

“Surprisingly, he's right. God was here.” Lucifer's and Gabriel's eyebrows raised, Cas blinked in surprise, and the three mortals looked at each other in wonder.

“I  _told_ you.” Metatron glowered from his seat on the dusty floor. 

“Shut  _up,_ you big baby.” Life snapped and Metatron disappeared. “Heaven's prison.” He said to Castiel after the angel shot him a questioning look.

“Great, so God was here and now  _he_ has the tablet. What do we do now?” Dean asked rhetorically. Life looked up at him from where he'd gone back to studying the table.

“Now, we can find God.”

 

Ten minutes later, they were all standing against the glass wall that allowed light to come in from the street outside. Under Life's instruction, they moved every booth, table, and chair behind the counter in a jumbled mess, leaving the dining area empty and spacious. Life was standing in roughly the center of the room, surrounded by a complex spell-casting circle he'd drawn with chalk they'd found from behind the register.  It was intricate and symmetrical, with undulating circles and sharp corners that captured and entranced the eye with even the slightest glance. Even Cas had a hard time looking away from the hypnotizing swirls of white carbon.

At a beckon from Life, every angel walked forward to stand with him. He'd drawn  five circles, one for each angel to stand in, that were similar to his own, yet less intense. They stood in a pentagonal shape around the central ring, each one evenly spaced from the other. Life pointed each angel to his place – Metatron directly in front of him, Michael and Lucifer standing adjacent to them, and Castiel and Gabriel bringing up the rear. 

“Life, what are we doing?” Cas asked with a furrowed brow and squinting eyes. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

“We're going to find your father.” Life answered. “Normally, we'd have to use four archangels, but Raphael's dead. I figured since you were the one who killed him, you'd make an adequate substitute.” Cas blinked at him, not completely understanding. Life didn't explain himself; he merely turned around and ignored the questioning seraph.

“Metatron, this might hurt.” Life said as he raised his hand toward the scribe. The angel looked around at everyone else, uncertain of what to do, but as Life's magic took affect, he froze uncontrollably.

Metatron lifted a few inches into the air, his body glowing white. The other angels surrounding Life starting glowing as well, but they were still firmly on the ground. Metatron radiated white light, but the other four didn't. Lucifer's light was a crimson-hued gold that swirled and moved more like water than light. Michael's light was a radiant green that was oddly similar to the color of Dean's soul.  Gabriel's light was bright orange and looked like a campfire, while Castiel's light was pastel-green from his time bonding with Dean. Metatron gasp as if he'd been hit by something, and at the same time, the other four angels fell to their knees. 

Cas looked like the wordless spell was taking the greatest toll on him. The archangels were only on their knees, Gabriel bent over but not touching the ground with his hands. Cas, however, had his hands on the dusty floorboards as well, and was silently panting in pain. Life took notice and had Dean come over and stand in the circle with him, which promptly helped Cas overcome the invisible burden and actually  _stand_ .

No one had it as bad as Metatron, though. He twitched and lurched in the air, whatever Life was doing was slowly ripping him apart. He was sweating profusely and vibrating gently, his eyes rolled back into his head and his arms and legs stretched out from his body. If he hadn't of been suspended in the air, he would have been a writhing mess on the ground.

The building began to shake and the artificial lights that dangled from the ceiling exploded at differing intervals. Despite the overcast  night  sky outside and the ruined light fixtures, the room was still oddly bright, brighter even than the light of the angels glowing in the circles. 

Life had closed his eyes, but now they opened. They were green and gold, but instead of being gentle and bright they now held a harsh, searching light that seared everything it landed on. Unfortunately for Metatron, that meant his body was being cooked alive even as he was pulled apart. The added light of Life's eyes made the room almost unbearable to be in, but no one could move. They were all glued to their spots by the powerful magic that coursed through the room.

“I can feel you, old fool.” Life said. His voice sounded like a hundred voices at once. A thousand, a million, even. Through him, every living thing in existence found their voice, and it could be heard as he spoke. “You left your magic here, and now I've found you.” He was talking in Metatron's direction, but the angel couldn't answer. Nor would he if he were able to.

“ _Leave me alone._ ” A disembodied voice said. “ _I want no part in this._ ”

“I will  _not_ leave you alone.” Life answered. “Where are you?” His voice was gruff and deep with anger.

“ _Life, knock it off._ ”

“Come and  _make me_ .” As soon as Life said that, a bolt of blue lightning came through the ceiling and struck Metatron, launching him out of the circle he was in. Without him there, the spell was broken.

The angels stood and shook their heads – the spell had taken a lot out of them. Cas leaned heavily on Dean, who half-led, half-carried him to one of the few upright chairs behind the register counter. Metatron was nothing but a burnt-out husk on the ground in front of the bathroom door.

Despite not getting a pleasing answer, Life smiled to himself. When Sam asked him why, he said “I know where God is now. I've seen him, and he can't hide from me anymore.” And then he was gone.

Dean was motherhenning over Castiel  even though Cas was trying to convince him he was fine. Neither of them had even noticed that Life had vanished, or were paying attention to anything happening around them. Lucifer and Michael were arguing about what to do next, Sam had gone to fuss over Gabriel in much the same way Dean was Cas, and Charlie was poking at Metatron's body with a spoon. 

“ Dean, I'm fine. Dean, honestly –  _Dean_ .” Cas's voice cut through Dean's mild panic like a knife. His tone softened and he said “I'm okay.” His hand stretched up to caress Dean's cheek and Dean pressed his face into it.

“You sure?” Dean backed up slightly, giving the angel space to breathe, hastily grabbing his hand as he did so. 

Across the floor, Sam was holding Gabriel up by his armpits. Gabriel hadn't taken as much stress by the spell as Cas did (he  _was_ an  _arch_ angel after all), but he was still enormously dizzy. 

“Come on big guy, let's get you a chair,” Sam said gently, nodding at Dean to grab one of the seats from the massive pile of furniture. Dean hastily obliged. “There, relax. Sit tight.” He said as he plopped the supremely powerful being into his own personal booster seat.

Michael and Lucifer didn't look as affected as their weaker counterparts. They were both walking a little funny, and Lucifer rubbed his temples every now and again, but whatever Life had done didn't crush them like it did Cas or Gabe.  After a few seconds of hushed arguing, they both disappeared.

“What the  _hell_ just happened?” Dean asked from his position at Castiel's side. 

“I guess Life found God.” Sam answered. “But now we're stuck in  _Philadelphia_ .”

“That's gonna be a long walk back to Kansas.”  Charlie muttered tiredly. “You two wouldn't be able to zap us back, would you?” She looked from Cas to Gabriel and back for an answer.

“No, not after that. Not for a while.” Cas shook his head in dismay. Life's spell was short, but it had winded him immensely. Gabriel wasn't up for flight or teleportation either. 

“Guess we better find a hotel.” Dean said, smiling. 

An hour later, and they were bickering about sleeping arrangements for the night (potentially  _nights_ ) they had to stay in the city. Obviously Dean and Cas would bunk together – they  _had_ been doing that for some time now, after all – but the other three were at a stand off. Sam didn't want to sleep next to Charlie in respect to her privacy and not wanting to make her uncomfortable. For that same reason, Charlie didn't want to sleep next to Gabriel – the angel was too touchy for her taste. Gabe, in turn, didn't want to sleep next to Sam.

“He's too big! He'll take up the entire bed! Not to mention, he probably snores like a herd of cattle.” Gabe complained. Sam glared at him.

“I do  _not_ snore that loud.”

“You  _totally_ do.” Dean said. They were in their room and Dean and Cas were already relaxing on their queen-size while the other three stood around the bed like it was some sort of competition. Whoever dropped out first had to cuddle up with either the archangel or the giant. 

“ _Shut up, Dean_ .” Sam said with an  _it's none of your business_ attitude. Dean snorted and rolled over  and curled up to Castiel's side, who closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of Dean's head. Gabriel started making gagging noises and Cas glared at him.

“You guys will have to figure it out somehow.” Cas said. “It's not like we can afford to rent an extra room for the night. This one is already expensive as it is.”

“I'm sleeping on the couch.” Charlie said. Before anyone could stop her, she threw herself on the plush sofa and absolutely  _refused_ to get up. “You two are bed buddies tonight. Get over it.” Gabriel glared at her.

“Shut up.” Dean's muffled voice came out of Cas's shoulder and he shifted in his bed. “It's already almost ten thirty and it's been a long day.  _Go the hell to sleep_ .” Cas's mouth twitched at Dean's familiar attitude. He was finally starting to be  _Dean_ again after the Mark.

“ I guess you're just going to have to deal with it, Gabriel.” Sam said. “Charlie took the couch, so it looks like you're just gonna have to bunk with me for the night.” He was  _far_ more excited than he let on, or felt he should have been.

“Not fair, Charlie.” Gabriel complained. “Why do  _I_ have to sleep with the rhinoceros?”

“Cause you're sure as  _hell_ not sleeping next to me.” She shot back as she rolled over away from him.

Gabe turned from her to face the bed, only to find Sam already laying down. He was on the far left side, hugging the edge and turned toward Dean. Sighing, he collapsed on the bed and crossed his arms.

“It's a good thing I don't have to sleep.” He muttered. An hour later and he was snoring right along with the rest of them.

 

Cas awoke first, his body recharging far faster than anyone else's on account of Life's enchantment. It was dark – still way before the first rays of the sun could peek over the horizon. He felt loads better than he did after Life's spell yesterday, but he didn't want to get up. Dean was curled into his body, and if Cas so much as sat up, Dean would awaken.

At first, he wasn't sure what had woke him up, but as he sat there in the silent darkness, the answer came before long. Dean was shaking in his sleep and muttering to himself just like he was when they were in that castle in Scotland. Cas was immediately worried about him; the last dream he'd had forced him to stay awake for days, and the sleep deprivation had taken a massive toll on his body. 

Before his dream could progress any further, Cas woke him up. Instead of shouting his name like he had before, Cas touched Dean's forehead and forced him into consciousness. Dean jumped and grabbed Cas's hand, his hunter reflexes defending him before reason could assert itself. He was wide-eyed and startled, like a deer in headlights, but when he saw that Cas had evicted him from his dream and that he was  _there_ , Dean calmed down and moved closer to the angel.

“Another vision?” Cas whispered quietly as he wrapped his arms around his human again. Dean nodded. 

“This time, we were underground in a big cave.  Like... in that movie  _Sanctum_ big. It started filling with water, but the water turned into the Darkness and you and Sam both drowned.” Dean's head was in the crook of Cas's neck, and his breath was hot and moist against the angel's skin. On the other side of the nightstand, Sam snored loudly. 

“We need to see if there's a way we can make them stop.” Cas muttered. “Maybe Life will know.”

“Nah, I'm fine.” Dean said. At Cas's look, he added “honestly, hon'. I'm okay. It's not like I slept very well before.” The moonlight from the window  made it barely possible for Dean to see the curves of Cas's chest underneath his shirt, and (not for the first time) he found himself wondering how he'd gotten so lucky.

“Dean.” The angel's voice demanded him look up, so he did. “You’re not okay. I can tell, you're terrified.”

“Course I'm terrified, Cas. We're fighting friggen'  _Darkness_ . Iron and salt doesn't work on shadows.” Rolling so that he was partially on top of the seraph, he kissed Cas long, and languorously slow. Just lying there absorbing Cas's presence and breathing his air made Dean calm down more than anything else could. “But we'll get through it.” He said, pulling away after what seemed like hours. “We always do. Me, you, and Sam.”

“You think the three of us will be enough?” Cas smiled, hoping Dean would catch the reference.

“We always have been.” Dean smiled back.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Charlie woke up with one of the most awful cricks in her neck she'd ever felt. Something about the short, dense couch she'd been sleeping on just wasn't the best mattress in the world and now she was going to suffer for it. She tossed and turned all night, never finding a comfortable position on the dull beige brick, and when the sun beat down mercilessly on her eyes through the window, she knew it was going to be a miserable day.

She removed the thin sheet she'd been using as a blanket and rolled over to sit up. When her eyes registered the sight in front of her, she blinked. She had come to expect it from Cas and Dean, they _were_ officiallya couple now, but not these two.

Gabriel was passed out on top of Sam, using the hunter's chest as a pillow. Charlie had come to believe that an angel couldn't sleep unless it was wrapped up by someone else. Gabe's head rested on the large muscle of Sam's left breast, tilted slightly down. Sam's hand was resting gently on Gabriel's back, while Gabe's hands were wrapped around Sam's stomach. The blanket blocked anything else from view, but it was obvious that Sam's leg was bent and sticking up into the air.

Looking over them, she saw that Cas was already awake, cradling a still-sleeping Dean in his arms. Seeing them together made her heat warm – it always seemed like it was meant to be, even though she hadn't known Cas for a very long time. Just from the stories that she'd been told (mainly by Dean, of course), she'd known there was something between them. She smiled at the angel, who smiled back and glanced down at Dean, the man's head on his stomach even though he was sitting up partially.

She stood and walked over to the little bathroom in the back. They didn't bring any clothes with them, so she quickly bathed and redressed herself in her green blouse and skinny-jeans from yesterday, not even bothering to do anything with her hair. By the time she was done, Dean had woken up and he and Cas were saying sappy good-mornings to each other and kissing lazily. However cute they were together, they had no thought for privacy.

After she was done getting ready for the day, Dean took his turn to. As he was in the shower, singing some 1980's rock song Charlie couldn't quite make out, Sam and Gabriel woke up simultaneously.

As Sam's eyes opened and he felt Gabriel's weight on him, he blinked and jerked his head back into the pillow he was resting on. Gabe felt the movement and woke up, grunting unhappily and wrapping his hands tighter around Sam's waist.

“Gabriel.” Sam muttered, catching everyone's attention and drawing their eyes to the spectacle. “Gabe, get off me.”

“Five more minutes.” Gabe said, burying his head into Sam's chest even farther. Sam's heart beat a little faster.

“No. Gabriel, _now_.” Sam pushed him gently and Gabe looked up.

“Good morning to you too, _big_ guy.” The archangel said with a wink. Sam's face turned a dark shade of crimson.

“Get off me.”

“I would, but I'm tethered to the spot.” He casually glanced down at their intertwined bodies, and Sam's blush increased.

“Gross you two.” Dean said from the bathroom. “Go get your own room if you're gonna get nasty.” His voice was muffled from the temporary toothbrush he had in his mouth.

Sam forcibly pushed Gabriel off of him, rolling onto his side as he did so. “It's not like you two are any better.” He said motioning to his brother and the angel on the other bed. “Ever since you finally admitted you were in love, it's been like one non-stop romance movie.”

“I'd rather be in a romance movie than a _porn video_.” Dean shot back.

“Since _when_?” Sam's face scrunched up in confusion.

“Since I saw the light at the end of the tunnel.” Dean said euphorically.

“Hellfire again?” Sam smiled. “You been visiting Crowley?”

“That is _wrong_.” Before Sam could answer, Dean turned to Cas. “Either of you capable of taking us back to the bunker yet?” Cas shook his head and Gabriel laughed.

“Not yet bucko.” Gabe said. “Whatever the hell Life did to us yesterday, it sucked us dry of any mojo. We're gonna be here for at least another day.”

“There were _so_ many ways you could have said that.” Charlie said. She was sitting on the couch, waiting for everyone else to finish prepping. Gabe winked at her.

“Guess we're just gonna have to enjoy the city, then.” Dean said. “Have we ever been to Philli, Sam?”

“Once, I think. It wasn't for very long, though.”

Dean smiled. “We're goin' sight-seeing.”

They wandered the city for hours at a lazy pace, not really trying to get anywhere. They stopped at any store that any of them found interesting. Dean forced them to go into a suit store because his was “getting to small, and all the little holes gave it a breeze”, but he ended up not buying anything. Charlie found a “Magic the Gathering” outlet in a shady part of town, but after seeing the guy who manned the register she thought twice about entering. He looked like a total brony, complete with the stereotypical fedora and long, grassy hair. Charlie knew from experience that if she even stepped foot in his store, she'd have to repel every inevitable advance he'd try to make, even with the four boys there. She bypassed the site without even saying a word.

They stopped for lunch at a little diner deep inside the metropolis. Dean got the largest Philly cheese steak sandwich any of them had ever laid eyes on, while Sam got a salad and Charlie a greasy cheeseburger. The angels made idle conversation as the other three ate, content to do nothing but wait for their loved ones to finish.

They hit the road again, and an hour later they found a shop that interested them all; The Wiccan Warehouse. It was three stories tall and claimed to sell every type of magical ingredient imaginable. Naturally, it was a farce – the crystal balls (which Sam complained weren't even magical to begin with) weren't even real, just cheap plastic. They left grumbling and disappointed.

Toward sundown they got lost in the northern part of the city, when the hotel they were staying at was in the south. Try as they might, they couldn't find their way around and ended up more lost than before.

"Damn it Sam, I told you this was the wrong way." Dean complained after the fourth wrong turn. Sam rolled his eyes.

"You also said that that one chick at breakfast was a leviathan, but she obviously _wasn't_." He shot back.

"Dude, she totally was! Did you _see_ her teeth?"

They stopped walking, and Dean turned to look at Sam directly. The other three moved out of their way.

"No, but I definitely didn't see her face erupt into a giant mouth, either." None of them had realized they'd wandered down a particularly dark alley that was steadily getting dimmer as the nearby lights flickered and went out. Nobody except for Cas, of course.  
  
"Guys." The angel said. The brothers looked at him and he nodded toward a flickering street light ten yards from them.

"What, Cas? It's just a bad light." Dean looked at him like he was crazy.

"Except it's the sixth one to go out in the thirty seconds we've been standing here." His shoulders were set and tense, and his posture showed that he sensed danger.

"Little brother's right, guys. Something weird is happening. We should leave." Gabriel intoned.

"What could kill you? Your a fricken archangel, we're fine." Dean said irritably. "Come on, I think we're supposed to go this way." He started to continue down the path they had been following, but stopped when he saw three dark figures blocking the street. Judging by their postures, they weren't friendly.  
None of then we're in the mood to argue with anyone except each other, so they turned around in unison, intent on avoiding confrontation. They paused when three more indistinct figures locked them in the now-dark alley. Dean huffed angrily.  
"Great, now we have to fight off street thugs." He said. "Man, I hate cities!"  
  
"You think we're street thugs?" One of the shadows said. The voice was familiar, and undoubtedly feminine. "You'd have thought the Winchesters, two angels and their bitch would have known one of us when they saw us." She stepped into the light of the last working lamp, and they realized why her voice sounded familiar. She'd served them breakfast. As she finished talking, her body erupted into one Dean's nightmares; the teeth and tongues of a leviathan.

"Dammit, I told you guys!" Dean shouted. "This is why _I'm_ in charge!"

“So you can lead us into a leviathan trap?” Sam asked.

“ _You_ led us into this. I've kept us clear of leviathans for _four years_ , and the _one time_ you call the shots, we run into them!”

“Yeah, keep yelling at each other. Don't pay any attention to us.” The waitress from their morning cafe said sarcastically. She still had her name-tag stuck to the front of her red and white uniform. It said her name was Sandra.

“Gabriel, we have to do something.” Cas said. “Carry them away from here or –”

“I know I know, I'm on it.” Gabe's voice was deadly serious. He didn't appear to be doing anything, but Castiel could recognize the angelic concentration on his face. “Keep stalling them.”

“Nice to see you again, Charlie.” A burly man that was sauntering up behind them said. At his voice, the group smashed themselves into a circle, everyone facing out. “Bet you don't recognize me since I've changed skins so many times.”

“Honestly, you could change into Kim Kardashian and you'd still be ugly.” Charlie retorted. “I don't care who you are, or... were.”

“That hurts.” He replied with mock distress and a hand over his heart. She shrugged.

“Eat me.”

“Don't mind if I do.” Dean gave Charlie a look that said _why would you go and say something like that?_

The slightest of tremors in the earth made Sandra stop advancing, and she looked at Gabriel questioningly. “What are you doing, little brother?” She asked. “Trying to use your angel magic on us? Not gonna happen.” Her frizzy blond hair bounced as she laughed.

“Not on you.” Gabe answered. “And you're no sister of mine, not any more.” He lifted his hand and brought it down in a vicious arc, and the streetlights that the leviathans were standing under fell over them, knocking four of them to the ground and making the other two jump out of the way.

“Run!” Gabriel and Dean said at the same time. Together, they all bolted off of the street they were on and turned toward the busier parts of the city – more witnesses, less cannibalism.

“ _Lamps? Really_?” Sandra's voice could be heard over the sporadic sparking of the light's wires. Gabriel turned and shrugged at her sarcastically.

“Why the _hell_ are these things here now?” Dean asked Sam. “We haven't seen them in years, and _now_ all of a sudden they just _decide_ to show their faces? What the hell?”

“I don't know, Dean. Maybe the Darkness is controlling them or something. We'll get to Life and ask him about it, then we'll figure out how to deal with them.”

“Where is Life, anyway?” Dean asked, glancing at Cas and Gabriel then back at Sam. “We haven't seen him since yesterday.”

 


	29. Chapter 29

Life was standing in a single wide trailer in the center of Tom's Trailer Park in southern Utah. It was dark and cluttered, the many nicknacks of the man he was visiting covering almost every surface of the run-down home. The quarter moon that hung low in the sky outside cast a faint glow on the house's interior, and from it Life could see that the man was obviously a writer, but he'd known that. That was, after all, why he was here. It wasn't the papers and pens, the half-sharpened pencils and crumbled balls of forgotten stories that had lured him here. It was their creator.

The man was sitting at an old fold-up table, typing away on a laptop that sounded about as old as it looked. The petty thing whirred and hummed angrily, but the man paid it no mind. He sat staring at the screen but not touching the computer, his shoulders slumped and his hand on his chin. It was obvious he had some sort of writer's block.

“Finding it hard to write?” Life asked quietly. “The Darkness is blocking your creativity, isn't it?...After all, you've been able to see _this_ far, but now it's like someone's drawn the curtains.”

At the sound of his voice, the man sighed. Without turning around, he said “Life, why are you here? You know I can't interfere. The kids are just gonna have to figure this out on their own, like they have everything else. Sam and Dean can do it.”

“'Sam and Dean can do it'. How ironic. They're the ones that started this mess in the first place, and you think they're the ones that can clean it up? You think _they_ have the power to even trap the Darkness again, or possibly kill the bastard?” Life moved from his position against the wall and walked around to stand in front of Chuck's laptop.

“They've been able to handle everything else I've thrown at them. Why not this?” Chuck's eyes were tired and doleful.

Life gave him a frustrated look. “ _Why not this?_ Well for one, _you_ didn't “throw this at them” like you said! Not even _you_ can control the Darkness.”

Chuck gave him the same look back. “Don't yell at me in my own house.”

“ _Your house_ as if this miserable box could hold you. _Your house_ is upstairs doing your _job_ , you twat. Not sitting here writing fan-fiction about your own story.” Life flicked his hand toward the laptop and it slammed shut, almost taking off Chuck's fingers in the process.

“Life... I'm not God anymore. I'm just me. Just Chuck. I'm an aspiring writer, I have a moderately successful series of books out, and I'm living my ideals of comfort. I can't control the heavenly host, I'm not the receptacle of humanity's prayers, I'm not Hell's worst nightmare. I'm three thousand dollars in debt, is what I am.” He crossed his arms uncomfortably and looked down at his PC.

“Do you understand how ridiculous you sound?” Life asked. He stomped and a chair appeared behind him. Sitting, he mimicked God's posture – arms crossed around his chest, his right leg over his left knee, his eyes downcast. Of course, his position was more rigid and hostile than Chuck's, riddled with anger and frustration as he was. “You created the universe. You and me, we made _everything_. Every star to every stone, it's _ours_. And I'll be damned if it's not our duty to defend it all.” Life's tone softened, but his face didn't. “Every living thing is dependent upon us, brother. We need to help them. You know I can't do it alone.”

“We _together_ can't do it alone. Remember the first time we tried? We got crushed. I saw that you've got the archangels, so you're half-way there. Now you need to find _her_.”

Life's face blanched. “Must I? She's so... unnecessary.”

“You _know_ she's not. The two of you are the greatest sources of light for living things, even more so than I am. I created everything, sure, but you two are what keeps everything moving along. You need to find her.”

“Where is she?”

“Everywhere. But she's closer than you think. I'll help you find her, but after that I'm not doing anything else.”

Life stared at God. “Right. Just like you wouldn't interfere with anything else, and yet you took the Demon tablet from Metatron.”

“He's caused enough heartache. He didn't need the tablet any more than Crowley might.”

“What'd you do with it?”

“I destroyed it.”

“Course you did.”

 

They made it back to their hotel, Sam slamming the door behind him as he crossed the threshold. They had run into the leviathans hours ago, but since then they had encountered a vampire, two werewolves, and a _sphinx,_ all of whom were apparently out for their heads.

“A _sphinx? Really_? Since when do those things even _exist?_ ” Dean asked loudly. Cas looked at him boredly.

“Since the dawn of the planet, Dean. Many of them are old, some are even older than most angels. The Egyptians loved them.” The angel moved away from the door and sat down on his side of their shared bed, while across the room Charlie copied his actions on the couch. Sam and Gabriel awkwardly hovered over their bed before they both plopped into it simultaneously.

“Thank you, Cas. Good to know I have an indispensable source of useless knowledge sleeping next to me whenever I need it.” Dean took off his jacket and threw it on the rickety dresser next to the TV and sat down.

“Go to bed, Dean. You get irritable when you're tired.” Sam said. He was already stretched out and on his side, ready to sleep.

“I totally do _not_.” Dean answered. Gabriel snorted in response.

Charlie sat up and gave him an angrily tired look. “Shut the _hell_ up, seriously. We've almost got eaten five times today. Go to bed.” Before Dean could answer, she rolled back over and refused to say anything else.

Dean looked at Cas and sighed. His angel was staring up at him with guarded, yet gentle eyes that made Dean melt immediately. He could stare forever into that beautiful blue...

Instead of sitting there and pining like he might have before, He pushed Castiel's arm out of the way, and curled up into his side. A minute later and he was asleep, leaving no one conscious but the two angels to keep watch.

The next morning came and Dean was the last to awaken. Everyone else had already gotten ready by the time he stirred, but somehow they'd managed to do so without waking him. Looking around, he groaned.

“Why's everyone up so early? What are we gonna do, try to go get eaten again?” He rubbed his palms into his eyes and rolled toward Castiel and the nearby wall.

“Actually, you're going to go back to the bunker.” A familiar voice said behind him. Dean looked back and there was Life, standing between Charlie and Sam like he belonged with them. “It's too dangerous here for you now. Leviathan saw you and now the Darkness knows your here. For some reason Dean, it's out for you.”

“What do you mean, 'out for me'?” Dean asked, sitting up. He'd fallen asleep in his boxers and didn't need to be ridiculed for being in  his underwear and a white tank while everyone else was fully dressed,  so he kept everything below his mid-drift covered. 

“It went to Scotland, where you and Castiel had spent the night when you had your first dream. And now it's following you here.”

“When'd you go to Scotland?” Sam sounded almost jealous. Dean didn't answer.

“How do you know it's following me?”

“It's possessed the witch you were hunting. Rowena.” 

Dean's face paled.  _Just like the dream_ . His eyes widened and he looked at Sam in shock, but the brother didn't have any of the answers he sought.

“So it was a vision.” He said. Rubbing his face again, he leaned his head against the headboard. “Crap.”

“The Darkness itself can easily trump anything I might be able to do by now. It's grown far stronger than I can manage, and it grows stronger by the minute. The safest thing to do right now is to get you back to the bunker. It's the only place the Darkness can't destroy.” Life looked at all of them, and his voice had an edge of authority to it. 

“Sure thing.” Sam said. “Why can't the Darkness get into it though? I know you made that force field or whatever around it, but if it's so strong...”

“We'll talk about that later. I know you all have questions for me, but this really isn't the place to have a Q and A session.” He glared at Dean and snapped. “Put some pants on, we have to leave.”

After everyone averted their eyes (except Sam, he was used to it) Dean dressed and they left. They couldn't leave directly from the hotel like Life would have preferred, and once outside, they saw why.

A great cloud of pure black hung over the western side of the city, looking like  ink and fiery smoke . Red lightning and  bullets of hail poured down onto the western horizon, lighting houses on fire and turning buildings into rubble. The city itself was in chaos – every civilian, every tourist was trying to get into a taxi or a personal automobile, but it was almost faster to run since the streets were already packed. Sirens wailed over the noise of the confusion,  giving a sense of terror to the already conflagrated scene. The nearby Delaware River was casting huge waves over its banks, swallowing up cars, boats, pets, and many people, but that wasn't even the worst part. As they ran against the growing tide of bodies, the earth shook. Subway entrances that led to the maze of trains below the surface collapsed in on themselves, causing everyone inside to be crushed and killed, and  _still_ the Darkness drove on.

“Why aren't we running  _away_ from the Darkness, like everyone else?” Dean screamed over the almost insurmountable noise. Life glanced back at him.

“Because, we need to do something that'll weaken it severely.” His voice was perfectly even and somehow rode over the din of the chaotic city.

The closer to the Darkness they ran, the less people they saw. At first they weren't running at all – more just pushing themselves through the masses and trying to not get caught underfoot. Eventually though, the civilians thinned out and they managed to pick up speed. Now, the only people around were lying under heaps of rubble, or charred and smoking results of a lightning strike. There were far too many dead for them to stomach, so they kept their eyes on the sky, watching the clouds of evil advance across the daylight.

“Life!” Castiel called. “What are we doing?!” Life was in the front of the group, reigning in his speed even though he was at least twenty feet in front of everyone else. Cas was on his heels, working twice as hard to just keep up.

“We're going to bind the Darkness.” Was all he'd say, and any questioning resulted in silence.

They rounded a corner and saw the source of the Darkness. It touched down in a thin tornado-like cloud half a mile down the road, shadows and death spewing from a common point and soaring into the sky. At the bottom of the pillar of darkness was Rowena, strolling casually down the center of the ruined street, with broken businesses and crushed factories flanking her. 

When Life saw her, he stopped. Cas stopped a fraction of a second later, almost running into him, and the other four came up a few moments after. Rowena kept advancing toward them, her form gradually growing larger and larger until they could make out the curves of her body and the gaunt grin on her face.  They stood there, with ten feet separating them; Rowena smiling down at Life, Gabriel, Castiel, Dean, Sam, and Charlie.

“Pleasure to see you all again.” Rowena's eyes were solid, sickly black with veins of inky darkness spreading like a plague underneath her skin.  She flicked her hand, and the Darkness pouring out of her skin ceased. The storm above rumbled angrily, but subsided. 

“The hell happened to you?” Dean asked. “You look like a fricken' zombie.” His face shriveled into one of disgust.

Rowena's eyebrow raised and she looked at him. “I look better than  _you_ do, Dean.  _I'm_ actually capable of sleeping, and I don't have to run to an angel whenever I have a nightmare.” She smiled tightly at him, eliciting a glare in response.

“So it's true,” Life butted in. “You and the Darkness have become one. How... distasteful.” His eyes squinted in thought, but beyond that he said nothing.

“It's actually quite nice.” Rowena answered. “I've killed Crowley, I've wiped out the Grand Coven, and now I'm going to kill all of you as well. Soon, there won't be anybody for me to have to worry about  _ever_ again.” She shook her head triumphantly, her red locks bouncing with the movement.

“You and I both know you can't kill  _me_ .” Life answered. “And as long as I'm here, none of them are really going to die either.” He mimicked her head movement, but with more sarcasm.

“Oh, but I  _can_ kill you now.” She said. Turning her head, she nodded into a nearby alley and waved her hand in a beckoning motion. From the shadows stepped the six leviathans that they'd seen the day before. Sandra was holding something, some sort of blade, but none of them could see. None but Life, who's white face turned a slight shade paler.

“My brother's sickle.” He said. “It's good that you returned it to me, after all it  _is_ a family heirloom. We wouldn't want it falling into the wrong hands, now would we?” He stalled. 

“The only way you're gonna get this is through your skull.” Sandra said, smiling. “Other than that, you're not gonna lay a hand on it.”

Life squinted and looked at her. “Why don't you take one form like you used to, Leviathan? Are you uncomfortable being yourself?” If he was afraid, neither his voice nor his posture betrayed him.

“This is a more efficient hunting method.” Sandra answered. They continued to advance toward Life, who looked back at Dean and Castiel.

_Castiel, on my count, put your hand on Dean's shoulder._ His voice echoed in both of their minds even though he didn't physically say anything. 

“You're so upsetting, honestly.” Life said. “You used to be such a nice little brat, but now you've evolved into a fully grown douche-canoe.”  His feet shifted until he was in more of a fighting stance, his shoulders set in a hard line and his hands balled into fists.

_One_ .

“This nice little brat's gonna carve your heart out of your chest.” Sandra answered. She brandished the sickle and held it upside-down, like a dagger.

“That'll be an interesting experience.” Life said nonchalantly. “I can't wait to see you try.”

_Two_ .

“Me neither.” Sandra turned her head toward Rowena imploringly. “How would you like him, ma'am? Scrambled like an egg or ground like a burger?”

“Scrambled, deary.” Rowena smiled cheekily at her, her once lush skin taut against her bones and giving her a birdlike look. If the bird had been dead for a week. Sandra nodded.

_Do it casually, like it's a normal thing. Three_ . Cas reached up and laid his hand affectionately on Dean's shoulder, his fingers and palm perfectly matching the burn scars on the man's upper arm. Rowena saw the movement but didn't think much of it – she'd seen it plenty of times.

“Actually, I have a different plan in mind.” Life laughed jovially as Sandra screeched. Behind her, Behemoth had appeared and put her in a Full Nelson. Michael and Lucifer were there too, pinning down two of the other Leviathans and scaring them all. In the middle of the confusion, Sandra dropped the sickle and at a wave of Life's hand it flew into his grasp.

“Now then.” He smiled and looked at the rusty blade in his grip. “I have an idea for  _you_ .” He pointed it toward Rowena, who smiled in a lack of understanding. Life snapped and the sickle disappeared, going somewhere only he knew. In its place, he rested his hand on top of Castiel's on Dean's arm and pointed the other at the witch before them. Both Cas and Dean screamed and sank to their knees as a vicious white light erupted from their meeting skin. It coursed from them into Life's hand and through his body to his outstretched arm, where it pooled like it was charging.

Life shouted something in Enochian quickly and succinctly, and the light that was growing steadily brighter in his left palm rocketed outward and hit Rowena squarely in the chest. She lurched backward and then fell forward, clutching her bosom and heaving in pain. Lifting a few feet into the air, she was stretched by Life's magic until she dangled spreadeagled in the air. Her mouth and eyes burned white and hot,  and after a second of her being suspended with her face to heaven, her whole body exploded with white light, like a nuke going off in the middle of Philadelphia.

As the light subsided, so did the storm above them. It coalesced directly above Rowena's frozen body until it poured down into her in a steady stream of ink. She shook violently as the Darkness entered her again, and the white light that emanated from her mouth and eyes slowly turned into a dark purple – dark enough to be mistaken for black unless the observer was directly in her face. 

She collapsed on the ground as the light faded from Life's hand and the last of the Darkness sank into her body. She fell on all fours like a dog, coughing and sputtering and spitting up bits of black phlegm. She seized again and fell on her stomach, rolling in agony as her pale skin turned the same shade of black as the Darkness that poured into her moments before. Even her hair wasn't unaffected – it bled from red to black as the Darkness took hold of her body and mind.

“ _What... What have you done to me?”_ She screamed at Life as she shook and wiped blood from her mouth. He looked down at her in wonder. 

“Trapped you, you old fool. Don't you remember what happened to us in the cage?” He smiled and laughed through his nose, then snapped. Everyone looked around in confusion as they found themselves back at the bunker, above ground and outside. The abandoned power-plant above their home looked grim and silent in the pale morning sky.

Lucifer, Michael, and Behemoth were still wrestling the six leviathans, and holding them off pretty well. Slowly but surely however, the leviathans were winning by sheer numbers alone, they were gaining the advantage over the angels, let alone their practical inability to die.

Life flicked his hand and the angels disappeared, only to find themselves behind the Impala on the other side of the driveway. The leviathans gave each other confused glances, but those turned to fear as they saw Life advancing toward them, Death's sickle in his hand once more.

“You always were a little dumb,” he said. “And now you're gonna pay for it.” One of the leviathans, the same fedora-wearing creep Charlie had seen in the Magic the Gathering store, opened his monstrous mouth and ran at Life, but life looked at him and he collapsed, his mouth fading back into a human head.

Life  _tsked_ and walked over to the creature that was struggling against his bounds. “You were our strongest creation.” He said as he took a fistful of the man's greasy hair and yanked it back to expose his throat. “Not even those two,” he motioned with the sickle at Lucifer and Michael “could match you or your brother,  but however physically strong you were, you always had the weakest brain. It's a shame you have to die.”

The leviathan couldn't speak, but he shook violently as Life brought the sickle up and across his neck, leaving a deep gash that spewed black liquid two feet out into the dirt before him. With a gurgled cry, the man's body fell forward out of Life's grip.

Sandra laughed. “We're everywhere now, Life. You'll never kill us all!” Life's only response was a casual laugh.

Wordlessly, he  _threw_ the sickle at her with blinding speed. Before she could react, it nailed her directly in the center of her forehead. She was dead before she hit the ground. The other four leviathans looked at him in terror and tried to run, but he systematically killed all but the last one of them as well. With the last one, he knocked it unconscious and dragged it back as if it weighed no more than a loaf of bread.

“Would you guys mind if I borrowed your sex dungeon?” He looked pointedly at Dean, then glanced over at Sam. “It's for an experiment I have in mind.”

Sam grimaced, but he nodded anyway. “You couldn't have phrased that any better?” He said as he walked toward the door, fumbling in his pocket for the key. Life rolled his eyes.

“I'm not going to bang the leviathan, Sam. I'm going to cure it if I can.”

 


	30. Chapter 30

Crowley sat on his throne, grumbling to himself. He'd managed to piece his meat-suit back together after he was rather rudely cast out of it, but it didn't quite feel the same. The man that was originally in there with him.... he was gone. Dead, now, Crowley knew – he was basking in one of the hotter places deep down below him.

Whatever had happened to throw him out of his human didn't do it to just him. Every demon on earth had been forcibly ejected somehow, which caused a _lot_ of mayhem for both him _and_ the mortal world. He had been so close to bringing many of the world's leading countries straight into the pit by possessing their leaders, but they'd all been kicked out and now anybody with a third eye knew they'd been possessed. Of course, it was easy to get _back_ into them once a couple demons realized they could, but as a whole the world was more weary of following their “leaders”.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think of ways to fix this massive inconvenience. Obviously he'd have to kill whoever it was that did this to him but he had no idea where to even start looking. Life didn't seem like he cared overly much about Hell, the Darkness wanted to _use_ it, Rowena wasn't powerful enough to do something so global, and after all the funny business with the fall of the angels, Heaven had been largely silent like the old days. He couldn't place where that much power had come from.

As he sat pondering what to do, a messenger ran up to the steps leading to his chair. It was a low-level demon – just a cross-roads from outside of Baltimore if Crowley remembered correctly – but she apparently had something important to say if she had enough nerve to bother the King like this.

“What?” Crowley asked bluntly.

The pale woman before him bowed low, then after a few seconds of catching her breath, she said “Sir, there's news. Demons that we thought were dead have been supposedly sighted around the Phoenix area and Philadelphia within the past few hours alone.”

“Demons returning from the dead?” Crowley mused. “That is news. Which ones, pray tell?” He put a hand on his chin contemplatively and crossed his legs before him.

“Alastair is said to be back, as well as the demons Ruby, Meg, and Azazel.” Her voice shook in hesitation.

Crowley grimaced at the names. “How exciting. Hell's biggest prats come back from the dead. Thank you darling.” He flicked his hand dismissively but she didn't move.

“Sire... there are a couple more.”

His eyes rolled. “Who?”

“Lilith... and Abaddon.”

Crowley's profanity made even the demon before him cower in abjection.

 

The leviathan's screaming drove daggers into the base of Castiel's skull. It was like being back in one of the battles for heave between he and Raphael all those years ago.

If anything, the moaning was worse.

It was low and nearly inaudible thanks to the bunker's concrete walls, but it could still be heard like a death knell throughout the entire compound. The perfect sound of agony, it gave even the most pleasant dreams the mortals had a tinge of angst and a hint of nightmare. More often than not, they found themselves up erroneously late watching reruns of stupid shows and old movies until one bright and dewy morning, it stopped.

Life emerged from the dungeon covered in blood and black goo, his white zip-up jacket completely ruined and his fashionably dark blue jeans smeared with gore. In his hand was Death's sickle, its edge gleaming an angry red and the rust on the handle shimmering curiously in the electronic light. Despite the look of ferocious power his body portrayed, his eyes were still as bright as ever and his mouth was still pulled upward in his typical glowing smile.

“Well that was a success, I suppose.” He said to no one in particular. The other five were sitting down at the dining room table discussing potential battle scenarios and how best to combat the circumstances the others could conjure, but at his presence they fell silent.

“What happened?” Sam looked back at Life over his shoulder, his feet propped up on the table and an arm casually draped around the back of Gabriel's chair. “Did you manage to hack into him?” The rings around his eyes begged for confirmation.

“Enough. I can't fix him unfortunately, but I _did_ manage to get some pretty useful information from him. And after he told me everything I could possibly get from him, I killed him. I know how this past week has been for the five of you. You three especially.” He looked at Dean, Sam, and Charlie.

“What information?” Dean asked. His curiosity forced him to sit up from where he was causally reclining against Castiel's shoulder.

“That shack that you killed my brother in? It's still there.”

Dean shook his head, not comprehending why that was important. “So? It's just a run-down building in the middle of nowhere.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.”

 

An hour later and Life was standing on the step to Chuck's trailer again. He knocked on the door casually, and before God could answer he let himself in.

God was standing there wearing nothing but his bath robe, holding a cup of coffee and brushing his teeth. He was looking out the window forlornly, not even registering the fact that the only person in existence that was even close to rivaling his power was under the same roof as he was.

“Chuck?” Life asked. “Earth to Chuck.” He called and caught God's attention.

“Life!” He turned to his sink and spat out a mouthful of toothpaste and spit, then rinsed his mouth with his coffee. Life grimaced. “What's up?”

“It's a good thing you're you.” Life answered. “If not, you'd probably not have any teeth left, the way your hygiene is.”

“Did you really come to tease me about the way I brush my teeth?”

“No, I actually came to talk. I need some help.”

“With what?”

“sit down and I'll tell you.”

They both moved toward the cluttered table at the other end of the little room and sat down facing each other. From nowhere, Life procured Death's sickle and set it on top of the papers that lay strewn across the surface. Chuck's eyebrows raised.

“Where'd you get that from?” He asked. “I thought it turned to ashes when Death did.”

“His _scythe_ did, but apparently this didn't. Leviathan tried to attack me with it in Philadelphia but I took it from her.”

“So what do you need help with? You have that, what else might you need?”

“Really just a second opinion on something I was speculating about when I interrogated a leviathan I caught earlier.”

“Spill the beans. I can't help if I don't know what to help with, and you're the only person who's mind I can't read.”

Life inhaled deeply and sighed, his brow furrowing in thought. “Death kills all life. My brother was supposed to be my end, but now he's dead.”

“Yeah....?”

“All life must come to an end at some point, even for me, even for you.”

“ _And?”_

“What about the Darkness? It should be able to die, right? Death should have been able to kill it.” Life looked up, his gaze intense and driving. God shook his head.

“The Darkness isn't alive, man. Death can only kill that which _death_ can happen to. Things that aren't alive can't die.”

“But what if I _gave_ it life? What if I made it so that Death _could_ kill it?”

“Why in _Hell_ would you do that?” Chuck's face shriveled. “That would only make it stronger.”

“Or weaker. If it's bound to another's life force, then it wouldn't have quite as much power as it would by itself.”

Chuck shook his head again. “Even if you could tie it to someone's soul, how would you go about killing it? We'd need Death's help to kill a creature that powerful, and he's dead.”

“That's where this comes into play.” Life nodded toward the sickle. “If we can unlock it's full power, we'd have enough to be able to kill the Darkness.”

“Not without you-know-who.” God reminded him.

“I have a couple questions about her too, but that'll have to wait until we're done talking about this.” Life said dismissively. “If there was some way to be able to access the sickle's magic....”

“There isn't. Only Death could wield that against me or you.”

“What about a reaper? They're his kids, right? Maybe if we found the most powerful one we'd be able to transfer his power to them.”

God shook his head. “Tessa's dead. Dean killed her like two years ago or something.” Life sighed, then brightened once more.

“What if someone were to have Death's ring? It's his source of power, isn't it? At least that's what he told us way back when. If someone had his ring _and_ his sickle, then they'd be him, wouldn't they?”

“They wouldn't _become_ Death, but they'd have at least a majority of his power, yeah. But no reaper would be able to hold that much strength. Nor would any angel or demon, and humans... No one can, Life.”

“Except for the two of us.” Life answered. Suddenly, everything clicked for Chuck.

“You want to get Death's ring, and try to use the sickle on the Darkness. Have you bound it yet?” Life nodded. “To who?”

“The witch Rowena. She's the only mortal strong enough to hold it all in.”

“You're a crazy bastard, Life.” God said. “Need anything else? You said you wanted to talk about her, too.”

Life was in the middle of standing, but at his words sat back down. “Oh yeah. You said she's closer than I thought, but I found traces of her with the boys. Is she manifested yet?”

“Yeah, she's been around a few millennia now.”

Life nodded, internalizing the knowledge. “She's with Dean and Cas, obviously. What about Sam and Gabriel though? She _might_ be toying with them, but I can't really tell. Sam's too... touchy.” God smiled.

“Oh yeah. She's messing with them too.”

“Are you sure it's her? It could just be Aphrodite instead. She's been screwing with people for ages.”

“No, it's her. It's definitely her.”

“But _where is she_?” Life asked, exasperated.

“The last time I felt her strongly, she was in Florida.”

Life's eyes widened. “ _Oh. My. God.”_

Chuck laughed. “Guilty.”

 

In the same garden he'd visited months ago to find Behemoth, Life was standing under a beautiful lemon tree that still had large, ripe lemons dangling from its branches. The shade half-hid him from view, but if you looked hard enough he was visible still – after all, lemon trees aren't that large. The source of his speculation wandered about inside the house, doing household chores that were, in Life's opinion, _far_ beneath her pay-grade.

He stalked up the wide staircase leading to the patio and slid the glass door open, startling her. Before the stack of porcelain plates she was carrying could hit the ground, he snapped and they stopped, inches above their doom.

“I would say long time no see, but that wouldn't really be accurate, now would it?” He said. “How on earth did you manage to sneak by me without me noticing?”

Cleopatra sighed and leaned against the table. “I learned a few things from your chew-toy, Life. Behemoth isn't a tough nut to crack.”

Life snorted. “That's mean. Why'd you hide though?”

“I didn't want to get sucked into this misery business again. The last time we fought it we almost lost, and now it's angrier than ever.”

“Am I the only one that understands that that means _we need to fight harder and not less?”_ Life rolled his eyes. “Seriously, the lot of you.”

“Hey, I'm helping. I gave you Cas and Dean, didn't I? And now Gabriel and Sam are running down that same road.”

“It took Castiel and Dean _seven years_ to realize what you've been doing, Love.” Life said. “Either you've gotten weaker or far more subtle, and now's not the time for either!”

“Don't scream at me, little boy.” Love's eyes twinkled darkly. “I still have power over you.”

“Oh yeah? And who might I be in love with?” Life challenged. Love laughed.

“Michael, for one. And _boy_ did it tear him up when you got locked away. And now you slightly fancy that redhead, too. Too bad she's not interested.” Love laughed with hostility as Life's face reddened.

“I hate you.” He said. They both smiled. “It's good to see you again though. For who you _truly_ are.”

Love laughed. “I know.”

Life's demeanor changed, and the air around them grew more serious. “Help us, Love.” He said. “You know all those stupid cliché sayings the humans always mutter to each other are true. “Only love can keep the darkness at bay”. You know we're next to powerless without your influence.”

She pursed her lips and didn't deign to respond. Only after a few seconds of his unbearably sharp gaze did she finally concede. “Fine. But I'm not gonna hide anymore. I know Behemoth will flip when he finds out.”

“Who cares? He's only an archangel. And besides, would I be wrong to assume that you have your eyes on another prize too?” He squinted at her, goading her into response.

She glared at him. “I swear to God if you say _anything_ about Charlie –”

“Oh relax. What do _you_ have to be afraid of? The whole world's at your fingertips anyway.” And then they were gone.

 


	31. Chapter 31

Cas was sitting at the dining room table late in the evening reading a magazine article about blueberries. Dean had gone to bed, complaining that the leviathan's constant wailing had given him a headache he felt at full fore now that it had stopped. Charlie had gone to Kansas City for the night to clear some legal matter concerning her mom, and Sam and Gabriel were only god knew where, doing God knew what. Cas didn't mind their absences, though. He liked being alone every now and again to be able to clear his head of the confusion that the mortal world inevitably brought on. Most angels called it “seeking revelation”, but Cas like the human term for it better. “Alone time.”

It was during his alone time that Sam wandered out of his room and came to sit by him with something obviously on his mind. Of course, being Sam, he didn't actually bring up any sort o conversation by himself. He was, in that regard, _just_ as emotionally whacked out as his brother.

“Is there something on your mind, Sam? You look pensive.” The angel said without looking up from his magazine.

“Nothing's really _wrong_ , I just had a quick question.” Sam's fingers fidgeted restlessly. His mouth quirked upward in a nervous grin, disappearing as quickly as it materialized.

“What's up?” Castiel's firm and immovable voice would always sound weird when it said such casual things.

“How... Did you... Could you _tell_ when Dean first started liking you? Like... was it obvious?” He sat down in the chair opposite Cas heavily, his immense body deflating into the cushioned seat.

“I wouldn't say it was particularly obvious, no. Dean is very skilled at hiding his emotions when he wants to, as are you. Why do you ask?” He folded his booklet and placed it on his thighs as his face screwed up into a look of curiosity.

“Well, uh... No – no reason in particular.” Sam answered. He stood and turned to go, took a few steps and turned around again. “It's just –”

“You're curious to know if everyone finds it obvious when you like someone but you haven't openly said anything?” Cas smiled gently. Sam's eyes widened in horrified shock.

“Yeah. That's... that's exactly why I was asking.”

“No. You're far better at containing yourself than Dean is, Sam. However true that may be, living with two beings who can read minds, and sometimes do so unconsciously, makes hiding emotion rather useless. If something's bothering you you should talk to someone about it.” He casually propped his feet on the table and flipped his magazine back open to his dog-eared page and continued to read, signaling the end of the conversation in a gentle way.

Sam looked away and nodded. “Right. You're right. Thanks, Cas.” He went to bed feeling worse about himself and more confused than ever.

_Does Gabriel know? Should I tell him?_

 

Cas finished the lengthy article on the blueberries and made ready for slumber. He didn't actually sleep, but he understood that even angels needed to stay on top of personal hygiene. Brushing his teeth was less than pleasant, mainly because of the horrible taste of the bunker's toothpaste, but doing things like bathing and changing into more comfortable clothing were much better. Cas _especially_ liked warm showers.

He figured he'd take one, since Dean had already gone to sleep and wouldn't be wondering where Cas was until the dawn and he didn't have any pressing matters to attend to. The search for information on the Darkness was at a temporary stand-still until Life brought back news from God, but that seemed to be a long time coming, and Cas knew he could afford the luxury of a clean vessel. Before he climbed into the shower he went to his and Dean's room to grab his favorite pair of Dean's pajamas since they hadn't done any shopping for him... ever. He smiled as he heard his love snore gently on their new, queen-sized bed, his tousled hair and tan skin just barely visible in the light gently pouring in from the hallway. Not for the first time, the angel wondered what his life had been like before he'd met this man. For whatever reason, he couldn't remember. For obvious reasons, he didn't want to.

After a quick thought, he walked over and placed a kiss on the side of Dean's head, making the mortal squirm with joy at his touch. Dean didn't awaken though, and when a moment passed Cas went back to the bathroom to shower.

He enjoyed the acoustics of the bathing area, marveling at how they made his deep voice more melodic than it already was. As he showered he sang all of Dean's favorite songs, which had slowly become his most beloved tunes as well. He sang through ten songs, an entire album for some artists, before he was relaxed enough to step out of the steaming cubicle and into the now-foggy bathroom. Drying himself with a towel and putting on Dean's clean pj's, he went back to their room with one of the many books in the bunker, content to do nothing more than to read and listen to his boyfriend's beating heart until the sun showed his face over the horizon.

 _I thought I closed the door to the room_. He thought to himself when their bedroom door was first visible around the bend in the hallway. _As a matter of fact I'm_ sure _I closed it. It's probably Sam borrowing Dean's headphones or something_. He dismissed the unusual sight as nothing more than commonplace. That was his first mistake.

His brow furrowed when he saw the messed up pile of blankets and sheets on their bed, but not the body of his love. _He didn't eat dinner tonight. He's probably hungry_. Cas thought to himself once more. Strike two.

Climbing onto the big bed by himself, he flicked the lamp beside him on and read his book for about twenty minutes before the eerie silence of the bunker started to ware away at his senses. If Dean was in the kitchen, he was doing a hell of a job trying not to wake Sam or Charlie up.

He only managed to read another half a sentence before he climbed out of bed and went to look for the missing man. First he checked the nearby library, but after no sign of him there, he moved on. The command center and living room were empty as well, the dining room proving to be just as barren. By now, Cas was so close to the kitchen that if Dean were there, he'd be able to hear anything he might have been doing. Checking anyway, he confirmed his suspicions.

 _Maybe he's in the bathroom. I haven't seen him go at all today_. Strike three.

Checking the vacant bathroom only made Cas's paranoia worse. He returned to their room, only to find that Dean wasn't there, either. He wasn't in the bunker at all, which was hardly ever a good sign. The bunker was safe. The bunker was _home_.

Cas was worried now. He ran to Sam's room and threw open the door, making Sam jump out of his half-sleep and stare at him in confusion. Cas explained the situation and immediately Sam was on his feet, determined to find his brother.

“Stay in here and search the bunker one more time. I didn't check the garage, maybe he's in there.” It was in moments like this that Sam realized why so many angels followed Castiel against Raphael, against Metatron. He was a natural leader.

“He could have just gone to the bar in town or something, Cas. I'm sure he's fine.” Sam said halfheartedly. Both of them knew that wasn't the case.

“He would have said something.” Cas replied, already making his way down the hall. “He would have called as he was leaving.”

The angel walked up the steps and barged through the bunker door like an angry war god, barely keeping the fragile wood intact. Noting the impala parked in the driveway and his own pimp-mobile sitting just behind it, Cas knew Dean had to be somewhere close by. He _had_ to be.

No matter where he looked, he couldn't find Dean. The man was just gone – vanished into thin air. Cas searched for an hour all around the bunker, even going to the more precarious places of the ruined cement factory that sat on top of their home, but to no avail. He teleported to the outskirts of Lebanon, the nearby town, searching for Dean there. He could feel Dean's emotions faintly now, and followed their trail into the nastiest part of town.

He found him there, lying in an alley propped up against the wall, drenched in sweat and covered in blood that wasn't his own. A man and a woman lay at his feet, their skin mutilated and their eyes staring but not seeing. The woman had obviously been pregnant.

Castiel's eyes grew wide with worry at the sight. Dean was barely conscious, and completely unaware of his surroundings. He almost seemed drunk, but the emotions were all wrong. Dean was either extremely giddy, horny, or angry when he was drunk, and right now he was none of the above. He was tired, and the feeling of utter _hopelessness_ that echoed around his soul hit the angel like a bullet to the heart.

At a flick of an angelic wrist, the bodies disappeared to leave Dean and Cas alone in the alley. After a brief touch on the forehead, they were gone too.

 

Sam just barely finished searching the perimeter of the bunker and returned to the dining room when he heard a muffled _thud_ come from the living area. Quickly, he ran into the other room to see Dean unconscious and covered in blood, his only support being the angel under his shoulder.

“Help me get him into a chair.” Cas's voice was more rough-and-tumble than it normally was, and his gaze was as stern and dark as an admiral's. Sam complied without question.

They propped him upright in his favorite armchair, barely catching his head in time to prevent it from dragging him downward. After he was stable, they pulled their own seats forward to sit in front of him together. By then, Charlie and Gabriel were up and searching too, and came into the room to the befuddling spectacle.

“Dean. Dean, _wake up_.” Cas's voice was low and quiet, almost reverent with worry. “ _Dean_.” He shook the man's shoulder gently, putting some angelic power into the harmless touch.

The scar on Dean's shoulder flared a bright, angry red that shone through his black night-shirt. Cas snapped and the shirt was laying on the coffee table next to the chair, Dean's muscular chest naked for the world to see. It was covered in glowing red lines that almost looked like claw marks down his abdomen, each one pulsing a sickly shade of terror. Cas instinctively put his hand over Dean's scar again, forcing the red to change into the now-pale green of Dean's soul and his grace. They had touched so frequently that they were almost completely intermingled now. Dean was practically an angel, but still just a mortal man.

As his soul reacted to Castiel's grace, the red lines on his chest faded away to nothingness. After the last one faded away, he gasped and sat up straight, his eyes flicking open and looking around in fear.

His eyes weren't _his_ eyes, though. And they terrified everyone around him. Normally, they were brilliant and bright, the color of an evergreen forest. Now, they were solid black.

Just like a demon's.

As soon as his eyelids flew open the shadow on his eyes disappeared, leaving the typical gentle green behind. He looked at Cas and Sam, almost on the verge of tears, but said nothing. He just glanced back and forth at them uncertainly, at a loss for words.

“Dean....” Sam said after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “ _What the hell?”_

 


	32. Chapter 32

“I don't... I can't... What happened?” The fear in Dean's voice filled Cas with dread. The way his lips shook slightly and the paleness to his skin were bad enough but _damn_ , that voice...

 _Life, I don't know if you answer prayers, even if they're from angels, but we need you here, now. Something's wrong with Dean._ Cas petitioned to the most powerful being he could think of, the one who might help the most. Gruffly, he said to everyone else “Give him some space, he needs air.” Nobody, not even Gabriel, dared to defy him.

 _Life, please. If not Life, then God, or someone else. Please,_ somebody _come_.

Cas placed his hand on Dean's thigh, drawing his panicked look and returning it with a gaze he hoped didn't belie the fear he felt himself. What had Dean just done?

“What do you remember?” He asked quietly. Dean shook his head.

“I had another nightmare. I can't keep having these nightmares, Cas. They're killin' me. I remember waking up and _sprinting_ to town, and I remember those people... God, that woman. And her _baby.”_ His voice cracked. Whatever his dream was, it must've been the worst yet. He was a tough nut to crack, and there wasn't much that could reduce him to a crying mess. Yet here he was, tears silently streaming down his face as his memory assaulted him.

Before Cas could answer, a firm (yet gentle) hand appeared on Dean's shoulder at the same time he felt the pressure of one on his own. Looking up and seeing Life's face filled him with relief. Seeing Cleopatra behind him filled Cas with confusion.

“I think it's time we confront these dreams.” Life's voice was quiet and calming and Cas knew it would be taken care of.

Five minutes later and Dean was laying on the dining room table, his chest still bare and covered in sweat, despite the fact that he was shivering uncontrollably. As Life carried him magically through the rooms on a cot of air, his eyes never left Castiel's, their hands never drawing away from each other.

Life and Cleopatra stood over Dean as he shivered and shook on the hard surface of the table, the curve of his back accentuated unnaturally by the push on his shoulder blades. Cleopatra went to put a hand on Dean's head, but Sam stopped her.

“I don't want some _witch_ to be touching my brother when he's like this.” His massive hand dwarfed hers, but she shook it off like it weighed no more than a drop of water.

“I'm not a witch, hon'. Your girl Cleo's been dead for centuries. No, I'm far older. As old as this bumblin' fool across from me. Now let me go so I can save your brother.” Her southern accent added an air of sassy command to her words, and Sam had no choice but to release her.

“If you're not Cleopatra then who are you?” Cas's voice rumbled with unspoken threats at her, but she didn't look at all scared.

“I'm Love, sweetheart. I put you and this fine hunk of meat here on the table together, and I'll be damned if I let such a masterpiece fall apart on me after only bein' together so short a while. Now hush up n' let me do my job.” She turned away from him to face Life again, who was watching her patiently.

“How are we going to do this? It's obviously a mark on his soul, but we can't just go pulling that out of his body.” Life touched Dean's forehead gently, feeling the heat that poured from his skin and the terror that was melting his brain.

“What's happening to me?” Dean convulsed painfully as he spoke, but remained silent as Life shushed him.

“We don't know, Dean. We're going to find out right now.” Life's tone washed over Dean like the ocean had, what seemed like eons ago on their beach vacation. The memory that it brought up made him relax just a little bit, but he was still covered in blood and sweat and agony.

“Leave his soul in, so we can see how it's affecting his body too.” Love instructed, but Life shook his head.

“We might not be able to find the source, then. What if it's his Core? What if something's wrong with that?”

“You _made_ the damn things, shouldn't you be able to tell?” Love's eyebrows shot upward.

Life huffed, but complied. “Dean, lie as still as you can. We're going to see what's doing this to you, and we're gonna stop it.” Dean nodded slightly, signaling for Life to continue with whatever it was he was going to do.

Life moved so that his hands were hovering over the table just above Dean's head, overlapping each other and glowing powerfully. He ran his right hand over Dean's body, half a foot from the man's skin. The light emanating from his palms rode over Dean's every curve, perfectly matching the contours of his body. After trailing all the way down to his feet and back up to his head, Life moved his left hand as well in the same motion.

Nothing happened for a tense minute, but as Life continued to drown Dean in light, the red marks on his chest reappeared. At their existence, Life's brow furrowed in thought and Love sighed, sounding almost relieved.

“It's not his Core, that much even _I_ can tell.” She said. “But I still don't know what it is.”

Life stopped his probing and rested his hands on the table at his sides. “It's residue from the Mark of Cain. I've seen it on Lucifer's grace as well, and Cain's soul was completely coated in it before Dean killed him. It's somehow fermented, grown stronger even though the Mark has been destroyed.” Life looked from Love down to Dean. “It's probably what's been giving you your visions about the Darkness. Your soul's been tied to it, which is why you've been having visions and why the Darkness is hunting you.”

“How do we get rid of it?” Cas asked. Life looked up at him.

“We burn it away. It's from the Darkness, right? So we pour light into it.” The lights above them flickered ominously, and from one of the few windows at the top of the wall, they could all see smoking beating itself against the glass.

“It looks like we have a visitor.” Life said angrily. “Rowena's come to play.”

Charlie and Gabriel looked at each other in shock. “The Hell are we gonna do about that?” Gabe asked.

“There's nothing we need to do. It can't break through the barrier I put up when I first came here.” Life said. Now the lights had completely gone out and the emergency generators had kicked in, keeping on the glaring red caution lights. “But,” he turned to Love. “Do you think you could get her to like, leave? We're kind of in the middle of something important here.”

“Always sendin' the girls to do your dirty work, right boo?” Love pushed herself up from the table and sauntered away. “I might need some help. You three, come with me.” She pointed at Charlie, Sam, and Gabriel, who obediently followed.

They climbed the stairs to the front door and flung it open without hesitation. Rowena's shadow-body was standing there in the doorway, smiling at them all with a mouth too wide to be natural. The only thing not black on her entire body were the pale white daggers of her teeth and the blood-red blanket of her tongue.

As the blackened pits that used to be Rowena's eyes focused on Love, she smiled. “Good to see you again, sweetie. I still haven't thanked you for our last little _encounter_.”

“No need. As a matter of fact I'd prefer it if you just left.” Love answered simply. Rowena laughed.

“Now we both know I can't do _that._ You'll just have to settle for me killing you instead.” She took a step forward, but a blast of golden lightning sprouted out of the door frame and sent her careening away to land in a heap on the ground at the top of the rough stone steps that led to the edge of the road.

“Good luck trying that.” Love smiled sarcastically. “You know you can't get in here, even if it was just Life protectin' the place. But now that there's _two_ of us greats in here, you stand _no_ chance. Leave, lady. Before I make you.”

“Right. _Make_ me.” Rowena answered as she stood and brushed herself off. “Like you said. _Good luck_.”

Love rolled her eyes and turned around. “Sam, Gabriel, do me a favor will you?” She asked. “Go ahead and join hands. Charlie, you grab mine.”

Both Sam and Gabriel turned bright red. “Um.... what?”  
“You heard me. _Join. Hands._ ” They reluctantly did as they were told and interlocked their fingers, Gabe's slightly smaller one fitting perfectly into Sam's massive paw. Love saw it and smiled. “Now let's send this bitch into the Atlantic.”

“That's thousands of miles away.” Sam said doubtfully. She gave him a questioning look.

“And?”

Outside, Rowena was spewing forth trails of black smoke that slammed into different spots on the glowing dome that surrounded the bunker, but it didn't budge. It might as well have been flies trying to break through a titanium wall. Love turned to face her and smiled genuinely. As she blinked her eyes changed to the purest shade of amethyst any of them had ever seen.

“I told you to leave, you angry old bat.” Love's voice echoed with whispers of long-lost loves and ruined civilizations. There were ten different tones in her voice, each one set at a perfect fifth from the next to create the most melodious and harmonic sound imaginable.

“ _And I said no_.” Rowena's voice also sounded like an entire choir was singing through her, but every not was in conflict with the one before, causing a cacophony of force.

Love shook her head and sighed. She backed up until her shoulder blade grazed Sam's chest. Extending her free hand out and pointing it at Rowena she smiled and said “Muori, cagna,” as purple lightning exploded from her hand and slammed into the witch in front of her.

Rowena screeched and in a clap of deafening thunder was gone. Love's glowing purple aura faded until she looked like a regular woman and she turned around to walked back down the stairs, dropping Charlie's hand in the process.

“The two of you gonna keeps your fingers locked together all night?” She asked Sam and Gabriel jokingly. They both wrenched their hands apart and pretended to do something casual that _didn't_ involve looking in each other's direction.

“You know, if you did you wouldn't be ridiculed by anyone. For God's sake, we can all tell you're followin' the same path those two down at the table are.” Her voice had an edge of steel to it that made both of them blush.

They made it back to the table and Love resumed her position across from Life. He looked haggard and pale, and now he was sitting in one of the chairs that dotted the room. At Love's questioning look, he said “It's not as easy to keep Her out as it looks.” He caught his breath, then continued. “It took a lot out of me. I can keep the scars visible, but you're going to have to heal him. I don't have the power anymore.”

“How in the world did you survive being stuck in the void with this thing for all those trillions of years? She was here for like five minutes and you're already about to drop dead.” Love shook her head in bewilderment and earned a glare from Life.

“Just fix him.”

“Fine. Cas sweetie, put your hand on Dean's shoulder. Here.” She forced the angel to cradle Dean's burn mark again, and the room lit up with the now-familiar green and white glow that smashed menacingly with the red on his chest.

“It's a good thing love can fix anything broken.” Love said triumphantly. Life snorted.

“It's not broken, just bruised. I'm a better designer than _that_ , thank you very much.” He looked slightly better, but still not in any shape to try anything magical.

“Sure dear.” Love dismissed him and turned to Cas. “All we gotta do is finish what you've started. All we need to do is turn him into an angel.”

 


	33. Chapter 33

“How? Life said that could take _years._ ” Cas asked. Love giggled and shook her head.

“Two of the most powerful people in the universe hoverin' over his shoulder and helpin' him, and this cute little bird _still_ doesn't believe in himself.”

“Cas, get a chair. You're not going to want to stand for this.” Life instructed. The angel snapped and one of the chairs that had been pushed to the wall slid across the floor and came to a stop behind him. He perched in it on the edge, like he might jump up at the smallest incentive.

“Life, could you bring out their Cores a little more, please? I need to be able to see what I'm workin' with.” Love sat herself down on the edge of the table between Cas and Dean, carefully close but not uncomfortably so.

He nodded and raised his hands. The silvery-green of Dean's soul grew a little brighter, as did the red marks on his chest, and Castiel's grace shimmered under his skin. They looked like two glowing corpses, surrounded by the red light of the emergency generators and the shadows of the night.

Love placed a hand over Cas's heart, but when she reached to do the same to Dean's, he grabbed her hand and stopped her. Painfully, he said “No... stop. I don't deserve to be... An angel. I've killed so many people. The people... in the alley...” Whatever was going on with him, it was slowly draining his life away, slowly murdering him.

Life procured a wash-cloth from nowhere and dabbed at Dean's forehead gently. “That doesn't matter, Dean. I'll take care of those people from the alley. I've got them, don't worry. I know where their souls are, and I'll bring them back up as soon as we're done here, okay? Just trust us.” Dean closed his eyes tightly, but released Love's hand anyway.

On the edge of the scene, Sam, Gabriel, and Charlie stood watching. As the sight unfolded, Gabe said to the other two “Come on, let's go somewhere else. We shouldn't stay around to watch this.” He dragged them by their arms down the hallway and to the library at the other end of the bunker.

Life registered them leaving and nodded at the archangel with gratitude. Looking at Love, he signaled for her to continue. She placed her hand on Dean's chest and drew a deep breath, closing her eyes and feeling their pulses. Her veins started to glow purple around her hands, which were covered in the color of her power. The initial contact between Cas and Dean, the burn on his shoulder where the angel was touching him, melted away to be replaced by clear skin. Love opened her eyes, which were now the same bright purple as her hands, and looked at the two in her charge. Under her guiding hand, Dean's soul and Castiel's grace moved toward each other faster, their originally sluggish pace quickening until it was a steady-moving stream of light.

When the first bit of Cas's pure grace connected with Dean, he screamed. The red marks on his chest flared bright and angry, coalescing into one point and spiking up into his shoulder to Cas's hand. The angel hissed and recoiled, severing the contact and breaking the spell.

Life looked on, deep in thought. “Love, let go of Cas for a second. Let's try to remove this... thing from Dean before we can completely heal him.” He said, glaring down at the man's chest. She nodded and took her hand off of Cas's heart.

“How do you plan on doin' that?” She asked. “I _thought_ that's what we were tryin' to do before.”

“It's too deep-rooted into his soul to be able to change right now.” Life answered. “It's not in the Core of his soul, but it's nearly there. We'll have to draw it up before we can rip it out.” He let his hands hover over Dean again, his light eliciting a reaction from the evil mark on Dean's soul.

“What d'you want me to do?” Love asked. She knew she was out of her territory now.

“Build a wall around the Core so it can't get to it, then slowly work it outward. You push and I'll pull, and together we'll extract this shadow.” She nodded and stood up. Placing her hands on Dean's temples, she muttered something in Latin and two tiny purple sparks shot into his brain from her forefingers. A moment later a purple line appeared over his abdomen, following the path of his spine.

As both of the super-powers concentrated, the purple line grew bigger and the red scratches cowered away from it. Life's green and gold light poured down from above, pulling the evil magic up even as Love's purple flooded it out.

After an hour of sitting there, combating them, the red light pooled above Dean's sternum in one large concentrated mass of corruption. It twisted and shook, slowly molding itself into the shape of Dean's head, with red skin and beady black eyes.

“ _You'll never get me out of here.”_ The personage snarled. “ _I'm a part of Dean now. I'm what keeps him human, what keeps him_ sane!” Its voice was Dean's, but augmented into such a harsh imitation of his gruff voice that it was hardly recognizable.

“'Sane' and 'human' are not synonyms.” Life answered. He snapped and Death's sickle appeared on the table in front of him, the blade dangerously close to Dean's side. Life picked it up and handed it to Cas, who had been sitting there, waiting, wondering if his love would be okay.

Cas took the sickle in confusion, looking at Life for guidance. Life returned his glance and pointed to the spot just below the obscenity-screaming head that floated over Dean's heart, in between the magical holograph and Dean's skin.

“Sever the connection. Cut the head off the snake and the body will die.”

Cas's eyes opened in horror. “I'm not going to kill Dean. I can't.” He shook his head, but Life answered.

“Don't kill him, _save_ him. _That_ is what's killing him.” Life nodded toward the apparition. “Cut it out and he'll be whole. He'll be _Dean_.”

Cas nodded and gripped the sickle's handle more firmly, then changed to hold it with both hands. He inhaled a sharp breath as he placed the sickle sideways on Dean's chest, the blade angled to swipe through the open air above his heart and below the demonic entity above it.

“Don't you dare kill me, Cas. I swear to God I'll come back and haunt your ass if you do.” Dean said evenly. He cracked a smile, but Castiel's face remained stern and unyielding.

The angel closed his eyes and jerked on the blade in his hands, careful to not let it even _touch_ Dean. At the sound of his screaming, Cas's eyes flew open in fear, but when he saw that it was the shadow-Dean that was slowly fading away and not _his_ Dean that was dying, he sighed in relief and collapsed into his chair.

“Good job, babe. You saved my ass _again_.” Dean said. This time, Cas _did_ smile.

“You're not 'healthy' yet. We've still got work to do.” Life pushed Dean back onto the table, preventing him from trying to sit up. “If we left you like this, you'd be a demon again by the end of the week.”

“I haven't had the Mark in months. Why haven't I turned into one yet, if it's such a problem?” Dean asked. Life's look was frigid.

“Because of the three of us.” He pointed at himself, Love, and Cas. “You've been melding your soul with Cas's grace, haven't you? That's what's been keeping you human. The angel part of you has been countering the demon part, and you've been _you_ because of it.”

“Then what caused this spike?”

“The visions.” Life guessed. “The proximity to the Darkness that you've had. The list could go on.” At his cue, Love silently put a hand on the two men's hearts again, restarting her spell.

The four of them sat there until well into the morning, none of them moving or saying anything. At the end, Cas's grace and Dean's soul were fully intertwined and completely inseparable, much as the two of them were already.

As her spell ended and her light faded away, Love stood and walked to the other end of the long table to be alone. Plopping into one of the chairs, she rolled her shoulders and her neck and simply leaned her head back to take a short nap. By unspoken consent, no one bothered her.

Dean was no longer ill at all. He climbed from his spot on the table without help, put his shirt back on effortlessly, and smiled brighter than Cas had seen in ages. The sight warmed the angel's heart to no end.

They stepped into each other's comfort zones, Dean's arms sliding around Cas's waist and the angels hands going up to interlock behind Dean's head. They stood there for a long moment, basking in each other's presences and breathing in each other's scents as their new-found bond allowed them to confer every emotion they were feeling to each other without the need for words. Dean rested his forehead on Castiel's and gently rubbed their noses together, his eyes soft and half-closed and affectionate.

Cas _loved_ this position. He could count every star in each universe that mortal men would call Dean's freckles, and he knew each one.

“How do you feel?” The angel asked, his voice low and soft and kind.

“I feel good, Cas. I feel _damn_ good.” Their kiss was long and slow as their tongues danced to the unanimous beating of their hearts.

Life watched them, smiling slightly as Love's affect took hold. True to his word, he disappeared to go resurrect Dean's most recent victims, letting him bask in their shared victory.

His ultimate weapon against the Darkness was almost ready. Not quite... but almost.

 


	34. Chapter 34

The next couple of days were fraught with tension as Gabriel and Sam tip-toed around each other thanks to Love's words. They were both _far_ more quiet than usual, which was especially weird with Gabriel, and neither could look in the other's vicinity in the slightest. Dean and Charlie were constantly making fun of them, complaining that “literally no one here is straight, so quit acting like it”, and Cas was trying to help them along. Unfortunately, the angel only made things _more_ awkward.

It had gotten to the point where Sam wouldn't leave his room except to get food or drinks, and whenever he _did_ emerge like a hibernating bear, it wouldn't be for more than five minutes, tops. Gabriel, on the other hand, had suddenly made himself very busy doing Life's commands, always jumping to different parts of the globe and filling in Dean and Cas's job. At any chance he'd get, though, he'd return to the bunker and linger with his friends for what Sam deemed longer than necessary.

On the third night of pure social agony for all of them, Dean, Cas, and Charlie were watching a movie on the bunker's big screen. They'd decided to go into town and buy some new shows because they'd already watched their entire repertoire, and now they were sitting there staring at _The Avengers; Age of Ultron_. Charlie and Dean were having a heated debate on which character was the coolest, and it didn't look like either would gain the upper hand in the conversation any time soon.

“The Hulk is _definitely_ the biggest bad-ass in the movie, Char.” Dean said. “I mean come on, he's a one-man army! He's practically invulnerable, he's super strong, _and_ he's super freakin' smart!”

Cas lifted his head from Dean's shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Like me.” His feigned innocence made Dean smile at him affectionately.

“Nah, Cas, you're cooler than the Hulk.” Charlie said from her seat opposite theirs. “But no one's as cool as the Scarlet Witch. Everyone knows that the Hulk's power comes from his anger, right? _She has mind control_! She can literally turn his powers on and off if she wanted to!”

“No she couldn't, did you ever even _read_ the comics?” Dean shook his head, making his entire body (and that of the angel laying on top of him) jiggle.

Before she could answer, they heard a door open and shut down the hallway, and watched as Sam's shadow steadily grew larger until the man himself was standing there in the door frame. He looked at them with a furrowed brow, but said nothing and headed toward the kitchen.

“Sam, who do you think's the coolest Avenger?” Dean asked him before he could clear the area. Sam sighed and looked at his brother.

“I personally like Hawk-eye the most. He's a good shot, and he never has to get too close to whatever he's fighting. It's strategic.” He backed into the kitchen and the door swung shut before Dean could refute his logic.

“Yeah, cause he's a wuss.” Dean muttered into Cas's head as he pressed play on the remote. A couple seconds later, he paused it again as Sam started to head back to his room.

“Why don't you come watch it with us, Sam? Come on, this one's _new_.” Dean's eyebrows lifted and dropped tantalizingly.

Sam shook his head, his long locks flapping around him like a halo. “I'm not really feelin' it, Dean. I'm just gonna go back to my room.”

“You can't hide in there forever, you know. Gabe's not even here, it's fine. You've been sulking for three days and you need some human interaction.”

“So what if he's not here? He _could_ be at any moment!” Sam waved the bottle of beer he had in his hand in a wide arc to accentuate his words.

“Then tell'em how you feel and put an end to this charade. Seriously, it's exhausting.”

“I know, Dean. I know it's exhausting. You forget that I had to deal with the two of you gazing into each other's eyes for literally _almost six years_.” The monster that was Sam's resting bitch-face came out to play, and Dean looked overly offended.

“We were more strategic with it.”

“Like hell you were.” By now Dean had kept Sam out of his room for long enough for him to change his mood, and he slowly walked over to the haphazardly organized couches and chairs that made up their living room.

Dean saw the motion and un-paused the movie, a victoriously self-righteous little grin on his face. Sam gave him a sarcastic look and sat down, stretching his feet out on the polished hardwood coffee table.

After another ten minutes of the movie, Sam said “Oh this part's sad. That guy dies.” If Dean was going to play with him, he'd play with Dean right back.

“ _Sam you can't just go and spoil the damn movie like that_.” Dean raised his eyes to heaven, then brought them down in an angry squint at his brother. “Wait... You've _seen_ this before?”

“I didn't spend _all_ of my time looking for you when you were a demon.” Sam said nonchalantly. “After all, you were off dicking around with Crowley, so Cas and I tried to get our mind off of you every once in a while.”

Dean turned his withering gaze on his angelic boyfriend, who studiously did _not_ look up. “You've seen it too?”

“Yes. But I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to ruin it for you.”

Dean scoffed. “Traitor.”

A shadow fell over Sam's chair and a familiar voice said “Oh hey, _Age of Ultron_. I kinda did what he did when I died. Putting myself into the media, _I_ thought it was actually pretty clever.” Sam's skin turned ghost-white as he heard Gabriel's voice directly behind him.

Dean smiled and Charlie tried – rather unsuccessfully – to not laugh at Sam's reaction. “Gabriel! There's one more spot if you wanna watch it with us.” There were actually more like _four_ more spots situated around the room, but he pointed to the one that was, conveniently, right beside Sam. If looks could kill, Sam would be Death himself in that moment.

Gabriel picked up immediately on Dean's teasing, but instead of returning it, he _went_ with it. He threw himself on the couch right next to Sam, making the larger man crush the pillow he was holding and stare at the ground pointedly. It only got worse for Sam from there when Gabriel put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a rough hug.

“What's wrong sweetheart, haven't you missed me?” Gabriel teased. Sam's mouth twitched, but he didn't look up.

“Yeah, Gabe. Sure.”

Dean snorted and pressed the play button. They watched the last half hour of the movie in what would hardly pass for silence, then Charlie headed off to bed and left the four men sitting there. Cas was still laying on top of Dean, his head casually on Dean's chest and his hand casually drawing circles on Dean's bicep. Gabriel was sprawled out on his side of the couch, while Sam was trying to shrink into the farthest corner possible from him.

“Sammy I'm kinda cold, could you toss me that blanket?” Gabriel pointed at the large comforter that Charlie had left on her recliner.

Sam glanced at it, then kept his stare resolutely on the now-dark TV screen. “Angels don't _get_ cold.” Was all he'd say.

“BS, I'm always cold.” Gabe rubbed his shoulders like he was freezing, when in actuality he wasn't chilled at all.

“Maybe you just need to cuddle. It _always_ helps keep me warm.” Dean tossed the idea out more toward Sam than Gabriel, and his brother turned the death-gaze on him once more.

“Shut it, Dean.”

Dean smiled and looked down at Cas, who sensed the movement and looked up. “C'mon, babe. Let's go to bed and leave these two to sort out their _feelings_ by themselves. God knows how much they've wanted to do that to us.” Dean didn't know where that little bit of knowledge had come from. It had simply... popped into his head. Sam's eyes widened in shock and betrayal

 _You can't just leave me here!_ His voice sounded clearly in Dean's head, making the older brother match the younger's expression.

“Let's go.” Dean grabbed Cas's hand and pulled the angel to his feet, then headed out of the door and into quieter parts of the bunker.

Sam watched them leave, and slowly turned back to Gabriel and his worst nightmare. _God, don't screw this up_. He thought to himself. _Please don't screw this up_.

When Dean and Cas were in the room, Gabe was all smiles and sassy jokes, but now that they had left, he was far more serious. They sat there for a tense moment, until Gabriel said “Look, Sam. I know things have been weird these past couple of days, but I _really_ like you, and I think it'd be better if we _didn't_ try to avoid each other.” He looked at Sam with an expression that was border-line sadness, and it wrenched at Sam's heartstrings.

“I don't want to avoid you, either, but... I don't want to freak you out or something.” Sam muttered back. The angel scoffed.

“I've been around since before the entire human race existed, Sam. Do you think something as petty and fluid as sexuality really bothers me? I mean _honestly,_ how many guys do you think I've boned? How many girls? How many of neither?” Sam shot him a confused look, but Gabriel shrugged. “There are people who don't want to be boy or girl, or they want to be both. I don't care _any_ way. If you're cute, you're cute. And Sam, you're the cutest.” His eyes were full of that playful light again, and Sam's pallid complexion turned red with blush.

“You're a total idiot, Gabe.” He whispered. “And a complete _ass_.” He threw his pillow at the archangel, hitting him square in the face.

“You throw a pillow at me and _I'm_ the ass.” He said into the suede cushion. Tossing the pillow away, he asked “So we're cool?”

Sam smiled and looked down at the shorter man. “We're better than cool.”

Their first kiss was longer and sappier than _anything_ Dean and Cas would ever be able to brag about.

 


	35. Chapter 35

 

As Cas entered their room, Dean quickly turned around and shut the door behind him. He, for some reason, seemed extremely paranoid all of a sudden and Cas didn't quite understand why.

“What's wrong?” A twinge of concern colored Cas's deep voice as he remembered that just three days ago, Dean was lying on the dining room table nearly dead from a curse.

“Nothin', we were out there and I thought I heard Sam _think_.” Dean took a deep breath, then continued talking. “But that's crazy right? I can't read people's minds.”

“ _You_ can't.” Cas answered. “But angels can.”

Realization dawned on Dean's face and he nodded slowly. “You're gonna have to teach me how to be an angel, Cas, because I don't want to end up being a totally douche like Zachariah or Naomi. And I'll be damned if I have to learn all of this on my own.” He sat down on their bed and kicked his boots off while simultaneously pulling his shirt over his head.

“Of course I'll teach you, Dean.” Cas answered as he too stripped and got into more comfortable clothing. “But I'm not much of an angel. You might want Gabriel to teach you instead.”

“That asshole?” Dean turned to look at his boyfriend. “Not happenin'. No, I want _you_.”

Cas smiled at him in that tired way of his. “Alright, Dean.” They climbed into their bed together, basking in each others' warmth. Dean tried to fall asleep but he just didn't seem to be able to. He _felt_ tired, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get to rest.

He tossed and turned, but no matter how much he shifted it availed nothing. Cas sat by, patiently waiting as Dean rolled around, trying to find a comfortable position and at last curled up behind him as he laid on his side. It wasn't often that they spooned, and it was even less often that Cas was the big spoon, but that night it just felt _right_.

Laying there, curled in Castiel's muscular arms, Dean finally managed to drift off into a naturally uneasy sleep.

He woke up just before the sun breached the eastern horizon from a horrible ache in his back. He'd rolled onto his stomach during his sleep and it had given him a painful crick in his neck, but the pain in his back was worse. It felt like someone had shot him in between his shoulder blades. At first he didn't notice the pain, but when he rolled over and his shoulders came into contact with the memory-foam mattress he sat up immediately. Cas was sitting next to him, reading, and at the sudden motion he looked up in confusion.

“Good morning?” The angel structured the phrase as a question, rather than a simple statement. “What's wrong?”

Dean rolled his shoulders and popped his neck to relieve some of the tension that had built up there. Rubbing the base of his skull with his fingers, he said “Nothin', just slept bad. And my back hurts. A _lot._ Did you do somethin' to me while I was sleeping?” He asked the question teasingly as he leaned into Cas's personal space, and true to his personality Castiel's reply was simple and straightforward.

“No. Why would I do something to you in your sleep?” He cracked a half-smile as Dean's face pushed into his own, their lips meeting seamlessly. Through their joining, Cas asked “Where does your back hurt?”

Dean pulled away and pointed at the spot of skin between the edges of his shoulder blades, right around his spine. Cas touched his back gently, making Dean wince, and the area felt hot and was weirdly pale.

“Maybe it's just a sunburn. You have been trying to tan lately, even though you don't _need_ it.”

“Only right there though? If it were a sunburn it'd cover my entire back, not just one spot.” Dean turned and leaned over the edge of the bed, his feet grazing the cold wood floor and his hands resting on his thighs. “I'm gonna go get some ice. I'll be back in a sec.” He stood and, not waiting for a reply, left the room.

He was definitely _not_ expecting to see what he saw in the living room. And _damn_ how he wished the hallway to his room didn't have to connect to it. _Nothing_ was more awkward than walking in on your brother and his boyfriend cuddling naked on the couch.

With a disgusted look on his face, Dean walked up to the back of the sofa and stared down at his sleeping brother and the archangel on top of him. Their clothes lay in a messy pile on the other side of the room where they'd carelessly tossed them before... Now Dean would have that mental image seared into his brain for the rest of time.

“You guys did the dirty on the _couch? Really?_ ” Dean's loud voice startled Sam and Gabriel into consciousness, and they quickly sat up and pulled apart, thankfully keeping their lower halves under the blanket that covered them. “Do you know how much of a mess that is to clean up? _Gross_.”

“Oh relax.” Sam groaned as he stretched the drowsiness from his body. “We didn't –”

“I don't wanna know what you did and didn't do,” Dean raised a hand and looked at the wall. “Please, spare me the details.”

“Hey, at least _you_ can sleep through it.” Sam raised his eyebrows at his brother. “Do you _know_ how many times I've had to try to sleep through you and Cas?”

“ _At least we were in our room_.” Dean said pointedly. “Where no one else will have to walk in on this sight,” he inhaled sharply, then winced and wished he hadn't. “Or _smell_. God, you guys are fricken' nasty.” He stalked away and into the kitchen to get the ice for his shoulders, and on his way back he gave them as much of a girth as possible, hugging the far wall.

At the door to the hallway, he nearly collided with Charlie. She glanced behind him, and when she saw how neither Gabe nor Sam were decent, her eyes widened at Dean. Without speaking, he shook his head and pushed passed her. Turning around, she followed him back down.

“What the hell?” Charlie's face wrinkled in disgust. “On the _couch_?”

“Yeah. Yesterday they weren't talking to each other and now they've already consummated their marriage.” Dean shivered. “On the _freaking couch_.”

“I'm never sitting there again.”

Dean snorted and pushed his bedroom door open. “Good idea.”

 

Crowley's patience was wearing thin. Every demon that had died in the past century was somehow coming back to life, and however thrilled he was to have some more of his helpful subjects, the bads far outweighed the goods.

He'd already found Azazel and re-killed him. Before Dean had shot him in his face, Azazel would always bully Crowley and the other cross-roads demons he'd come across. Now that Crowley was _King_ , though, he tried to suck up. Crowley had enjoyed his screaming before he finally died.

He'd convinced Lilith to work with him and to accept him as her King. He didn't want to kill her – she was powerful, and Hell had grown a lot under her reign before him. Of course, Hell was slightly confused now because it had not one, but _two_ monarchs to listen to, but once he'd convinced the former Queen to step down, it had sorted itself out. Alastair he'd greeted with open arms – he enjoyed Alastair's humor, and his methods of torture were very... efficient.

He wasn't even really worried about Ruby or Meg, annoying as they were. They weren't all that important to him. Sure, the Winchesters and that bothersome angel had a soft spot for Meg, but Crowley had killed her once. He could do it again. And Ruby... she'd take care of herself. The next time Sam laid eyes on her.... Crowley's only wish was to be there to watch.

No, the greatest thorn in his side was the one thing he couldn't kill, especially without the Mark or the First Blade. Abaddon. She was such a pain in the ass, and unlike Lilith she'd never back down, never bow to him. He'd already seen her once, and she was just as much of a bitch as she was _before_ Dean had stabbed her, but now she had a vengeance. Against Crowley, _and_ the Winchesters.

Crowley didn't know how to deal with her this time. There was only one thing that could kill her before, and now that the Mark was gone and the Blade was useless, she seemed to be entirely invulnerable. Of course, Crowley had an idea, but if it would work...

He shrugged and thought to himself _What the Hell? Why not try?_ He dismissed the servants and messengers that were constantly running around telling him that this demon and that demon have been spotted all over the planet. As the last trickled out of his throne room, he bowed his head uncomfortably and, projecting both his thoughts and his voice into the void, said;

“Life, if you answer prayers, I need your help. A Knight of Hell has somehow risen from the dead and she's going to tear the world to ribbons if the Darkness gets a hold of her.” He looked up and glanced around the room, wondering if demons could even pray. At a noise behind him, He turned in his seat to look at the racks of torturing equipment that he kept for decoration, but there was nothing. Turning back around, he saw the _one_ thing besides Abaddon that he didn't want to ever have to see again.

Lucifer.

Satan himself was leaning against one of the great stone pillars that supported the ceiling, resting his head against the concrete casually. At Crowley's wide-eyed terror, he chuckled to himself.

“Love what you've done to the place,” The Devil said cheerily. “It's nice. Very... archaic. _Gothic_. Good touch.”

Crowley put his facade of indifference back on, and leaned into the throne lazily. “I'm sure you didn't come here to compliment my décor. Is there something I can help you with, Lucifer?”

Satan shook his head and continued to look around. “Nah, I don't think so. I just heard you praying and thought I'd come down to see what you wanted.”

“I wanted Life, not you. I have a question for him, one that you can't answer.”

“Don't be too sure. I can answer lots of questions. And besides, he's on Charon right now looking for something and won't be back for at least another day.”

“What's he doing on Pluto's moon?” Crowley asked more out of curiosity than anything. “I've been there, there's nothing.” He shook his head. “I digress. Unless you can somehow kill a Knight of Hell, you can't help me, Lucifer.”

“You wanna _kill_ Abaddon?” Lucifer squinted up at him. “Why? She could be helpful, you know. I mean, pit a Leviathan against a Knight and man, you'd have one _hell_ of a cage-fight.”

“I have no interest in watching pigs squabble in the mud. I do, however, have an interest in saving my kingdom, and my ass.”

“That's a shame. I guess if you didn't want to watch them go at it, you _could_ just kill her.”

Crowley sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That's what I'm _trying_ to do. The only issue is that the _one_ blade that had any chance of hurting her is now a useless bone.”

“The First Blade?” Satan laughed. “I don't even know why it's called that. Death's sickle is _far_ more dangerous than Cain's dog-toy, and _way_ older. The First Blade wasn't the first _anything_.”

“You're saying there's something _else_ that can kill Abaddon?” Crowley's interest was piqued.

Lucy rolled his eyes. “Do you think the First Blade could kill God?”

“Probably not. I have no idea, what does that have to do with Death's weapon?”

“The sickle can. The sickle can kill _anything_ in existence. You, me, Abaddon, the leviathans, even _God_. If you wanna find a way to kill Abaddon, screw the First Blade. That's like the bottom-feeder of “The World's Most Powerful Weapons”. Go for number one. Go for the thing that _killed Death_.”

Crowley didn't answer for a long while. He was too busy thinking. Something like that _could_ come in handy, being the King of Hell and all...

Finally, he spoke. “Where could I find this weapon?”

“Last time I heard, Life had it. He's both Life _and_ Death now.”

 


	36. Chapter 36

Life wasn't anywhere near Charon _or_ Pluto. He was in the Philippines. In a cave. Under _water_. He'd had to swim there because the damn thing was warded against him somehow, which only confirmed what he'd already thought.

This was home base for the Darkness. _This_ was where Rowena hid whenever she wasn't decimating a city.

Life emerged from the water into the unnaturally cold cave, the air freezing against his wet skin. If he were mortal, he supposed he'd be cold, and he was glad he didn't have to worry about such inconveniences. He snapped and his clothes returned to their usual dry, crisp state that they were always in, and his hair ceased to glue itself to his head.

The cave he was in was dark and damp, with only a narrow pathway along the wall to be able to walk on. The rest of the floor opened into the ocean, the ferocity of the water occasionally shooting up geyser-like sprays of mist into the shadows. Where there wasn't water, there were stalagmites and stalactites laced together like giant stone teeth, sometimes open wide in hunger, other times sealed tightly together.

Life glanced around the large area, his face a brooding and indifferent mask. He ran his tongue over his teeth pensively as his powerful eyes took in the magical protection scrawled over the walls that only someone as old as he was could know. Luckily, the Darkness hadn't known what symbols could keep him from coming in _physically_ , so he was still able to get inside however inconvenient the process.

Taking a tentative step forward, he tried to be as silent as possible. It wasn't hard with the rush of the waves below him, and being _him_ , he could always just... hover. He didn't need to touch the ground, he was _Life_.

As he passed one of the archaic sigils on the wall, it flared red and released an earth-shattering vibration that echoed down the length of the cavern. He sighed and stopped moving, hoping that the cave was vacant. After a few seconds of seeing and hearing nothing but the water moving below him, he continued.

After ten painfully slow minutes of creeping along the side of the cave, he neared the end of it. The path widened until it reached a doorway that gave access to a broad, dank expanse that sank into darkness that not even Life's eyes could penetrate. As far as he could tell, the entire room was empty, devoid of any obstructions. The floor was flat and unadorned, the walls bare and smooth, without so much as a pebble to break the monotony. It was all very.... peculiar.

Life snapped and the entire room illuminated with a directionless light that cast no shadows and had no originating point. It made everything look strangely two-dimensional, making the already naked room look even more flat than it was. Even with the glow, Life could see that it was empty.

He strolled into the center of the room, trying to gain as good of a vantage point as possible to view his surroundings. He was totally unaware of the monster of a woman that had sneaked up behind him, using the cover of the ocean to mask the sound of her feet as much as he had.

Rowena waited until he was at the room's middle to reveal herself. She slipped quietly inside and leaned against the wall, watching him. When he slowed and eventually stopped, she continued to examine him like some sort of science experiment.

She'd deemed the time she watched him for to be long enough. Now was the time for action.

Rowena nodded to her left, and the massive stone door that usually hung open slid shut. Life heard the subtle scrape of stone on stone and the inevitable _boom_ of the door coming to rest and he turned around. His eyes landed on Rowena and immediately sharpened into slits of anger, his hands balling into fists and his legs tensing up as he crouched.

Rowena pushed herself away from the wall and sauntered up to him, the force of the Darkness inside of her leaving an indentation where her body had pressed into the polished stone. Her footsteps _clacked_ against the floor as she walked forward, and behind her every step left behind a burning silhouette of disintegrating stone.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to get here.” The witch said casually. Her voice sounded exactly the way it did last time – ten octaves of evil, all set at odds with each other. “You've gotten slower now that you have to stay in that one shape.”

“It's a little hard to be everywhere at once and still only here.” Life answered. They watched each other like cats hunting their prey. “But I'm still faster than you are. Especially now that your stuck in that poor woman's body.”

“I know what you mean. This shell is about as slow as that silly purple thing you had electrify me the other day.” Her face looked dramatically insulted. “That _hurt_ , by the way.”

“Damn.” That one word was laden with sarcasm. “How is Rowena, anyway? Is she still in there or did you dispose of her like you do all of your play-things?”

“No, she's still here. She's nothing more than a muttering mess most days, but she's here. And I'm slowly undoing her soul, _just_ like I did Leviathan's grace. Soon, you'll have another one to worry about.”

Life looked tired. “We both know you can't destroy a soul, _or_ grace. They're pure light, and all _you_ are is light's absence. Try to touch it and it'll corrode you like acid.”

“I'm not _destroying_ her soul, silly boy.” Rowena smiled, her hellishly black skin taught against her face. “I'm warping it. She'll be a demon, but _worse_. Those boys thought the Knights of Hell were bad, but they've never seen the Queen.”

“Queen Bitch?” Life cocked his head to the side.

“Clever. Now, what is it you want?” She looked at him, bored, and crossed her arms over her chest.

With a flourish of his hand, Life created Death's sickle. “I want to end this.”

Rowena snorted. “You can't kill me. Not even your _brother_ could kill me.”

“Don't be too sure. You're stuck inside of Rowena now. If she dies, _you_ die.” He started pacing toward the right. She mimicked him, matching his pace perfectly.

“Come on, then. Let's see what you've got.”

They prowled around each other for an indefinite amount of time, neither one creeping any closer. Days could have passed and neither would have realized, but before that could happen Life struck.

He didn't openly attack her, but rather illuminated the cavern to a point that she couldn't withstand. Every fleck of dust, every grain of rock that was molded into the sides of the cave reflected his light like a mirror. She tried to stop him, but the magnitude of the light around her made any darkness, any shadow she created wash away like sand in the tide.

“How?” Rowena looked at Life in confusion, the subject of her question obvious.

“How am I shutting you down so easily?” Life smiled. “ _I'm_ not.” He directed his eyes behind her, at a being she hadn't known was there.

She twisted around to see what she was looking at and her angry glare turned into an indifferent mask to hide her fear. At her reaction, Chuck smiled.

“We know you can out-gun Life, but not me. Not yet.” God laughed and turned up the intensity of the light that he and Life were creating, and Rowena buckled under the force.

“You can't kill me, God.” The Darkness muttered, low and calm. “No one can kill me.”

As her attention was occupied by Chuck, Life crept up behind her silently, Death's sickle poised to strike in his hand. She was on her hands and knees, weakened by the supernova-level light that was constantly beating her down now, and her neck was perfectly level with his hand.

He came to stand directly behind her as God spoke to the Darkness within. And, as she started to replay, he yanked her head back by her hair and drug the blade across her throat.

Her beady black eyes looked up at him in surprise and her mouth gargled on the words she was about to say, but they died there in her throat as blood welled up from the gash in her esophagus. She choked and gagged a few times, but then fell strangely still.

Life looked up at God in curiosity, but looked back down as he heard a coughing, demonic laughter escape the shadow of the witch in his arms. Rowena's body convulsed with each burst of air, and she tried to rise but Life sliced at her again. The blade sank deep into her chest, piercing her heart.

That was where everything went wrong.

A massive shock wave of shadow erupted from Rowena's body, sending Life careening into the wall, which shuddered and cracked at its touch. God vanished and reappeared a split-second later to avoid the blast, but the damage was done. The light was gone, and Rowena reigned supreme.

“I told you you can't kill me.” She smiled and giggled, sounding more like a drowning cat than a laughing woman. “I can't die, you silly little minx.” She had Life pinned against the wall, three feet from the ground even though she was on the other side of the cave. In a rush of motion, she was standing with her face mere millimeters from his, her putrid breath steaming against his skin. “I can't die, but _he_ can.” Her hand was on his throat, but she released him and turned toward Chuck.

“Life I'm really sorry, but I'm gonna have to leave you here. I'll see you later.” Glancing at Rowena, he smiled and said “Hasta luego.”

The tunnel of shadow she sent crashing toward him had _no_ chance of reaching him before he teleported away.

“Still _such_ a child.” Rowena's head shook left to right in a tight, tense motion. She turned around to look back at Life and screamed. He was gone, too.

 

On the other side of the world, where the sun beat down high upon the humid Kansas plains, Life leaned against a dying tree for support. The sickle slid from his limp grip as he himself fell to the ground with his back against the rough bark. Moving his hand away from his abdomen, he looked down to survey the damage that one shadow-burst had caused.

His ribcage was open and bare, the bones startlingly white against the red of his muscle. The palpitations of his heart could be seen behind the slender lines of bone, and with each one his pain grew. The skin around the wound had been burned off, corroded away as if with acid. He grimaced, and blacked out, wondering how on _earth_....

 


	37. Chapter 37

Dean had been taking a nap with the ice pack on his back when he awoke to what sounded like a million angry bees buzzing around his room.

Turns out, it was just his cell phone vibrating wildly against the hardwood surface of his nightstand. He reached up and grabbed the thing, grumbling about “who even knows my number anymore, everyone I know is here”. For a second he couldn't answer it because his fingers refused to obey him, but he managed to get them to comply and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” His voice was still rough with sleep and ominously deep, and just _hearing_ it made Cas smile next to him. Dean's reaction to whoever was on the other line made his brow furrow in interest.

“Squirrel,” Crowley's voice was scratchy thanks to bad connection, but it was _definitely_ Crowley. “Lovely to hear your voice again.”

“What the hell? _Crowley_?” Dean glanced up at Cas, whose look smouldered into a glare. “What do _you_ want?”

“I just thought you might like to know that some of our best friends are back from the dead, thanks to that giant fuming cigarette that's walking around claiming to be my mother. And if you can reach him, I need to speak to Life about something.”

“Our best friends? Like who? And Life's not here right now, you'll have to call back later.” Dean rubbed his eyes with his fingertips, Crowley's voice reviving a knot of tension he'd thought had left him.

“Oh you know, our _friends_. Like Abaddon and Lilith, and that whore that screwed your brother and started the Apocalypse.”

Dean froze. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker.” He pressed a couple buttons, and Crowley's sigh could be heard throughout the room. “Repeat that.”

“Abaddon's back. So is Lilith, Ruby, Alastair, Meg. I've even heard mention of Cain walking around, but I've yet to see him myself.”

“You've _got_ to be kidding me.” Cas sighed and rested his head on the wall behind him. “Hell's greatest, all back for round two?”

“You've got it, Tweety. Good to hear that heavenly angry voice again. Tell me, have the two of you sealed the deal yet?”

Cas looked at the ceiling in confusion. “What deal? Dean's not a demon anymore and I don't have a soul.”

Dean laughed once. “That's not what he means. He's asking if we're together yet.”

“We've been together for seven years.”

“No, bird-brain. Have you two realized you're in _love_?” Even over the phone, it was easy to tell he was trying not to laugh. Dean glared at the phone and hung up on him.

He sighed and put his head back down on the pillow, facing Cas. Looking up at his boyfriend didn't take _all_ of the pain away, but it definitely lessened it a little.

“Does your back still hurt?” The angel asked him. He nodded and rolled his shoulders. “Maybe we should ask Life why. Neither of the two of us have found anything wrong with your muscles or bones, and Gabriel's much more skilled at healing than I am.”

“We don't need to ask Life, Cas.” Dean yawned. “He's probably off doin' something and wouldn't be able to come anyway.”

“I still think we should try.”

 

Life was standing on the surface of Charon, looking for the only thing that could rival Death's scythe in power.

The First Blade.

He had to go snooping through Cas's memory to find where he'd hid it, and Life _hated_ doing so, but it was necessary. The last time he was near Sam, he heard him thinking about something he found in a book in the bunker. It was stupid and completely illiterate, but it might prove to be the method of their success. It went something like “evil bound bad book”, and Life knew what that meant.

The Darkness was always the greatest force of destruction in the universe, in every sense of the word. That included _self_ destruction. After so long trapped in a parallel universe with it, Life knew that the only thing that could destroy the Darkness was the Darkness itself. Conveniently, it wasn't all that smart and had left certain items in its wake that could prove to be its undoing. _Could_.

The Darkness was bound to the Book of the Damned, and the Book couldn't be destroyed, or so everyone thought. But Life knew better, especially after his last confrontation with Rowena. The blade of his brother was useless against her, and at first he didn't know why, but after he saw what he did in Sam he connected the dots and figured out this one subtle connection that could prove to be the deciding factor in the war against the Darkness. As long as the Book was in tact, Rowena was immortal. And as far as anyone knew, the book was indestructible... but then again, so was Life, technically speaking. And if he knew one thing, it was that _nothing_ was ever truly indestructible. There was always a loose thread that would cause the entire fabric to come undone. He just needed to find it. And so here he was, standing on the moon of a planet that made the sun look like any regular star in the cold vastness of Creation. Not for the firs time, he wondered why he and God hadn't filled it all in.

He could feel the Blade's power. It was here, somewhere, buried under the surface. The wound in his side pulsed in pain as he gradually drew nearer to it, giving him a sort of radar for all things tied to that great shadow. Eventually, after hours of searching he found it. Well, sort of.

No matter where he went on the pitted surface of the moon, the pull toward the blade felt the same. In every cave, every cauldron, ever mountain and ridge, he could feel the power of the Darkness in much the same way he felt gravity. That could only mean one thing.

Cas hid the blade not _on_ Charon, but _inside_ of it, which really bummed Life out. He had personally created both Pluto and his moon, and now he had to blow Charon to bits just to stop the Darkness.

_Ah well, as long as we can get the damn thing dead._

He grumbled to himself and raised his hand level with his shoulder, palm pointed down. He'd gradually been growing stronger since he and the Darkness were released, and he felt now that he could do things like this.

He could do things like _blowing up moons_. It made him feel like the Death-Star. It saddened him to feel the spirit of the little planet hovering so close to him as it realized what he was about to do, and he could feel Charon's own soul trembling in anticipation. He'd given them life when he formed them, and now he would have to take it away.

It made him feel terrible.

 _I'm sorry I have to do this_. He sent the thought reeling toward both of the two great rocks, but only got more feelings of despair thrust back at him. From Charon he could feel a grim sort of acceptance, like she was willing to be his means to an end for all of this. _But it has to be done_.

He closed his hand in to a fist, and a great fissure split the moon into two halves beneath his feet, for as long as even _his_ eyes could see. The extraterrestrial stones cracked and groaned as he forced them asunder, driving his magical pick deep into the moon's core. It shook with all the might of an earthquake and burned with the heat of Charon's escaping soul, and with the force of a nuclear warhead, the moon ripped itself apart.

Rubble flew everywhere, burning rock and dust pelting Life and the surrounding asteroids with a vengeance. Pluto floated mournfully on, his companion being no longer. It was an explosion with such force and light and energy, every mortal on earth was bound to see it. He might as well have darkened the Sun.

He lingered there for longer than he cared to think about, waiting for the arid dust of the demolished moon to be propelled away by his power. As it cleared, he could see what he was after, but more importantly he could _feel_ it.

A large, cubical stone made of polished granite sat where the core of Charon had been before Life had come. It looked so out of place, floating next to Pluto when the only source of granite within four light-years of him was Earth, it was almost comical. The pain in his chest increased ten-fold, and he knew he'd found his prey.

 

Sam was in the shooting range, firing his pistol at the targets that he'd scattered all around in a patternless frenzy. He tried not to shoot two targets near each other, and never the same one twice, but preferred to spin around like a ballerina shooting at things that lay across the room from each other. Gabriel was there and mindlessly watching him, occasionally magically moving the targets, per Sam's request, to give him an added challenge.

After the thirteenth time he completely unloaded the magazine in his gun, Sam called it a day. He'd been in there for hours, jumping over obstacles Gabe would create and avoiding traps the Trickster set for him. He was covered in a film of sweat from head to toe, and his hair drooped down in front of his eyes, heavy with perspiration. His breath came in ragged gasps and his thin shirt clung to his densely muscled arms and chest, accentuating his frame.

“You're not in the shape you used to be in, big guy.” Gabe said. “All this sitting around waiting for God knows what to happen has made you slack of a little.”

“But still, that was better than last time.” Sam answered. He grabbed the towel he'd brought with him and wiped off his face. “Were the metal spikes stabbing through the floor really necessary?”

“Necessary? No. Hilarious? _Yes_.” The archangel wiggled his eyebrows at his boyfriend and opened the door to the hallway. “How about we go to the kitchen and I'll make you a little something to eat, huh? You look starved.”

“I can't complain.” Sam smiled and draped the towel across his broad shoulders as he followed Gabriel down the hallway. “As long as you don't try to use the oven again.”

“I never said anything about _cooking_ the food. Just _making_ it.”

A half hour later and Sam was sitting at the table eating rotisserie chicken wrapped in bacon with a side of seasoned mash potatoes and spiced vegetables. It was two in the afternoon and Gabe had conjured up an entire seven-course dinner for him.

The archangel sat across from Sam, his feet propped up on a chair and his head lolling back lazily. He was telling Sam a story about the beginnings of the universe – when God and Life and Love had all pitched in to fight back the Darkness, but how it was ultimately shoved into the Mark by the archangels. The tale was wild and complex and had a lot of loose ends, but the main thread sounded reasonable.

At a muffled _thud_ and the sound of some sort of cloth sliding across the floor, Gabe stopped talking and they both looked up. Life was standing there, hunched over a chair and clutching his lower ribcage, wheezing and trying to steady his breath. Sam and Gabriel looked at each other before getting up to help him, each one taking an arm and slowly easing him into the chair that was already supporting his weight.

“Christ, Life, what happened to you?” Sam looked him up and down, surveying his slight body. Life's hand was still plastered to his side.

“Guess.” He shook his head as if to clear it, and slowly removed his hand from over his heart. His ribs could still be seen slightly, but it looked better than when he'd escaped the cave in the Philippines.

Charlie, Cas, and Dean came filtering in at the noise, each one stopping to look at Life from the door to the hallway. They all gathered around him, not a single one of them registering the package he'd dropped.

“What the hell?” Sam asked again as he sat down on the table.

“God and I. We went to where the Darkness has been hiding and tried to kill Rowena with my brother's blade, but it didn't work. I thought that maybe since it's tied to Rowena's soul it could be killed, but I was wrong. At least, partially. During the fight, she hit me and this happened.”

“What'd she hit you with, a nuke?” Dean squinted at him from across the table and Life turned from Sam to look at him instead.

“Nuclear warheads wouldn't have an affect on me.”

“Of course not.”

“How long ago was that?” Cas was looking at Life with something close to suspicion.

“Three days ago, by this world's count.”

“But you haven't been on this world in all that time.”

“No. I had to go retrieve something.” He nodded toward the midnight blue velvet cloth that was resting against the wall, and Charlie walked over to pick it up. She grabbed it and unwrapped it, looking at whatever was in her hand and glaring at Life.

“Why'd you bring it back?” She showed them all what it was – the First Blade. Dean swallowed angrily, but said nothing.

“It's the only thing that can kill Rowena, I know now.”

“It's power only comes from the Mark, and the Mark's been destroyed. It's useless now.” Dean's tone was curt and strangely loud as he tried unsuccessfully to hide his fear. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than anyone around him.

“It's not tied to the Mark, Dean. It's tied to the Darkness, which is the only thing powerful enough to kill it.” The way he ended his sentence made it clear that there was something else he wanted to say.

“What else?” Cas was still his usual calm self through all of it, but Dean could feel the crimson waves of anger pulsing out of him like the beats of a war drum.

“The _blade_ is bound to the Darkness, but its wielder has to be too. And there's only four people in all of Creation who fall in that category.”

“Who?” Charlie asked.

“Leviathan, but she's out of the question.” Life scratched his head and looked down at the hole in his chest. “Lucifer, but we're not giving him that power. Cain, but he's dead... and Dean.”

The silence that followed was heavy enough to almost be tangible.

 


	38. Chapter 38

Dean was pacing his room, still fuming hours after Life dropped that atomic bomb of information. No one had dared to bother him yet, but he didn't really know how to feel about that. He almost would have preferred someone to talk to, to vent to. For some reason, that thought brought up another.

 _I've changed a lot since Sam and I first started looking for dad_.

As if on cue, Cas opened the door and walked in, not saying anything. Dean registered his presence but didn't change what he was doing, instead deigning to turn around and pace the other way.

“Dean.” Cas said simply. That one word carried enough of the angel's emotions and thoughts for Dean to be able to write a book, but instead he wiped his face with his hands.

“Cas I can't grab that knife again. I _won't_. I almost killed you the last time I saw you with it. I don't wanna risk that again.” He looked up, and Cas was surprised to see tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. Dean didn't normally cry when he was angry. Hell, he didn't normally cry _ever_. “I almost killed Sam because of it. And you. God damn it, Charlie actually _did_ die once because of it already.”

“Listen to me.” Cas's crossed the room quickly and quietly until he was standing inside of Dean's personal space. It had been ages since Dean cared about that. “I know you don't want to, and I know it's dangerous, but I need you to. _The world_ needs you to. If you don't–”  
“I know. Everyone's gonna die. But I can't do it, man. I can feel that thing callin' me. It _wants_ me to pick it up again.”

“Do you want to? If Sam and Charlie and I weren't here, would you want to?”

“What? No, of course not!”

Cas's hand came up to brush against Dean's jaw because hey, he could do that now. “Then I think we'll be fine. It was the Mark that turned you into a demon before, wasn't it? You don't have the Mark now, you don't have any of that blood-lust. You'll be okay.”

Dean deflated at his words and rested his head on Cas's shoulder. “You're right. It's just... I'm afraid of it. The Blade. The Darkness. Of everything, anymore. Hell, i'm even afraid of _Sam_ a little bit.”

“Your brother _can_ be terrifying.” Was all Cas said. “And Dean, you don't need to be afraid of anything. Because the four of us here will _always_ be here. Gabriel, Sam, Charlie, me, we're not going anywhere. _Ever_.”

Dean lifted his head and looked Cas in the eye, love plain on his face. One of his hands slid down to hold the angel's while the other reached around to grab his butt. “Let's go to bed.” He chuckled into Cas's mouth as he kissed him.

Castiel pulled away and gave him a strange look. “It's only five. You're already tired?”

Dean laughed and shook his head. “I'm not tired at all. But we _will_ be.” He led Cas to the memory foam mattress, which probably _didn't_ want to remember them after that night.

 

In their room across the hall, Sam and Gabriel were having a similar conversation.

“I just don't see why Dean needs to use the blade at all.” Sam was saying from his spot on the bed. Gabriel was washing his face in the sink next to the door, listening to him rant. “I mean I'm _sure_ there's another way around this.”

Gabe finished and wiped the water from his skin and shook his head. “My uncle's a definitive guy. He would have looked for _every_ possible solution before bringing _that_ up. If he says we need to do something, then it's probably best that we listen to him.” He took his shirt off and crawled under the covers, cuddling up to Sam.

Sam put his giant arm around Gabe's shoulders and looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe he missed something.”

“He's not mortal, Sam. He doesn't _miss things_. In any form of the word.”

Sam looked down at the archangel and jokingly asked him “Whose side are you on?”

“Yours, you big dork. I'm _always_ on your side. _Even_ if that means I have to bring you the bad news.”

“Oh I know. I still remember that day when you kept killing Dean because you thought it would do me good. I still wake up every Tuesday with a massive fear that that's gonna happen again.”

Gabriel chuckled softly. “I didn't _mean_ to emotionally scar you.” He laughed and pecked Sam chastely on the lips. Or, what was _supposed_ to be a chaste kiss, but Sam held him there for far longer than he thought, and after that things got a little... rough.

Charlie, as was her usual, was sitting in her room playing Skyrim as her method of relieving her emotions. She'd just finished ripping apart a dragon with the strongest character she'd ever created. She'd hacked the tall, muscular, red-headed warrior woman to be absolutely _ungodly_.

“Is that supposed to look like you?” A voice behind her said. “She's too tall. And she's not proportioned correctly. Her arms and legs are too long, and her head is too small.”

Charlie jumped and twisted around, grabbing her pistol from where it lay just to the left of her laptop. She relaxed, but only slightly, when she saw who it was standing behind her.

“Cleo, how did you get in here?” Charlie glanced at the door, which was still shut and locked the way she had it.

“Name's not Cleo, girl. It's _Love_. And did you _honestly_ think a locked door was gonna keep me out?” She pursed her lips sarcastically and sat down on the foot of Charlie's bed.

“Love? That's kinda comical, don't you think?” Charlie asked.

“The whole damn world's a running joke between God, me, and Life.” Love responded without looking at her. “There's nothing on this stupid rock that you wouldn't find hilarious if you knew how it was created.”

Charlie nodded, unsure of what to say. As the seconds rolled by and the silence grew, she found herself growing more and more uncomfortable because, well... She didn't know how to entertain guests all that well. Especially crazy- _attractive_ guests that just so happened to control all of the dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin in your body.

“So...” Charlie said as she tried to think of something. “You're like... a super-powerful goddess or something?”

“Hon', I'm the goddess of the gods. They go to bed at night and pray to _me_ to keep them safe.” She sat up from her lax position and looked at the girl in front of her. She squinted at Charlie and sighed inaudibly. “Anyway, I was just comin' in to check on you, seein' how you handled that old hoot's news. He's _so_ insensitive sometimes.”

“Well I can't say it makes me _happy_ that the _one thing_ we needed to get rid of six months ago is the only thing we can use to kill the Darkness.” Charlie shook her head in disgust. “Will we _ever_ be free of that thing?”

“After this whole mess is said and done, absolutely, dear. I'll take care of it for you. You have my word.”

“Thank God.”

Love looked over-dramatically insulted. “Don't thank that pretentious nerd. Thank _me_.”

 


	39. Chapter 39

The night passed and morning came with everyone still being grumpy, but not _furious_ like they were the day before. Dean still wouldn't look at or talk to Life because of his anger, but Cas eventually convinced him to talk to the man about his weird back problem.

It took Dean a few minutes to completely describe what was wrong, when it had started, where it affected him, and any other details Life asked him. As he finished, Life chuckled.

“It's just your wings growing in, Dean. You're becoming an angel, remember?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, humored by everyone's lack of knowledge.

“My _wings_? Angels don't _have_ wings, though. They're just shadows or somethin', right?” Dean posed the question more toward Cas, but it was Life that answered.

“Angels have wings, Dean. So do demons, and fairies. God, Death, Love and I _also_ have wings. It's how we move around. How we travel.”

“Then where are they?”

“Hidden, obviously. Typically whenever an angel or a demon takes a vessel their wings are compressed into the human's body, but with enough concentration they _can_ make the wings manifest in a physical form.”

“You'll also be able to see them when you've fully transitioned.” Cas added. “Angels and the oldest and strongest demons can see each other's wings, faces, everything. It'll open your eyes to our true forms.” Cas glanced from Dean to Life. “What I don't understand is; why is it _hurting_ him? I was never pained when _my_ wings were growing in. Why is he?”

“You grew up in Heaven. You don't need a vessel to exist there, so your wings grew in without the hindrance of a physical body. Dean however, is here on Earth, and he's gonna have to suffer through every point of this transition.”

“Can't you _do_ something about it?” Cas squinted angrily at Life's indifference.

Instead of Life answering, Dean did. “I don't want him to. We haven't done any hunting in _weeks_ , and I'm starting to get lazy. I think it'd be a good thing for me to remember what it feels like to hurt every once in a while.”

“I disagree.” Cas answered with a _you've lost your mind_ type of tone.

“Castiel, the only way to grow is to change, and often with change comes pain. If I do anything to speed up the process or to take away the pain he feels, it _could_ warp him into something all-together _not_ angelic.” The way he said it left no room for argument. “Besides, you said it's been bothering you for how long? Five days? It'll be over soon. Angel wings grow faster than anything else in existence. You'll have them before you know it.”

“What'll I look like after they've grown in?” Dean asked. “I don't wanna walk around town lookin' like some movie prop.”

“You'll look the same. Your wings will be inside of you, unless you pull them out.”

“And how do I do that?”

“It's... hard to explain. I could just _show_ you instead.” Life offered. Dean's eyes widened as he looked at Cas, who appeared to be just as taken aback by the offer as he was.

“Show me how?” Dean pushed his back into his chair, suddenly nervous.

“Not with your wings, with mine.” Life's eyebrow quirked up in a questioning look. “I'll show you what it feels like when I do it, and it should feel the same when you do.” Glancing over at Cas, he added “You wanna join in, Big Bird?”

“We both have wings. I feel like the nickname is unnecessary.” Cas said as he nodded in agreement.

Life's eyes rolled as he closed them. A few seconds later, Dean and Cas could both feel a weird pressure on their foreheads, like someone was pressing a memory-foam pillow into their brains.

 _Open your mind, Dean._ Life's voice echoed around the room without him speaking. _Angels can connect to each other over short distances through telepathy. Do so now._

Dean of course, had no idea how to do that. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine his mind... opening... but all he could picture were the doors on the impala opening all at once.

A rush of feelings washed over Dean like a tsunami, making him catch his breath. Suddenly he was sitting in Life's chair, in Life's _body_ , but also somehow in his own. He could feel Cas sitting next to and across from him, a whirlpool of color and emotion and light more enticing than anything he'd ever seen.

_ There you go. Now, pay attention to what this feels like and what I do. You'll follow the same steps if you ever want to open your wings up. _

Dean made a noise of consent and followed as Life concentrated on the small of his back. There was a little pocket of pressure there, completely unnoticeable unless he'd gone looking for it. At Life's behest, it expanded until it covered the entire span of his back, from in between his shoulders down to where his spine curved inward. A psychological nudge pushed at it from Life's glowing consciousness, and Dean could feel the pressure expanding outward from Life's body, taking shape and stretching impossibly long. 

“Open your eyes.” Life's voice was slightly higher than his usual tenor, slightly more alive and lilting. 

Dean felt oddly alone as the two minds he was in contact with drew away from him. Despite his eyes being closed everything was oddly bright and colorful, but as he felt Life and Cas become their own beings again, everything returned to darkness.

He had to do a double-take when he saw the enormous expanse of feathers that dominated the space behind Life's chair.  They looked like they were made from polished bronze, catching the light and reflecting it at a billion different angles. As each wing expanded, Dean could see that they were far larger than he was expecting – twenty feet each, at least. It was a good thing the bunker was so spacious and airy. 

Dean looked in fascination at Cas, who was still admiring the sheen of copper that draped across the long table. Catching the angel's eye, Dean asked “What do  _ yours  _ look like?” 

Cas shrugged. “I don't know. I've never seen their physical form before.” 

“Whip'em out, then!” Dean nudged Cas on the shoulder and the angel gave him a provocative look. Dean blushed.

“I don't know if I can, honestly.” Cas answered. 

“I can guide you through it again, if you want me to.” Life offered. After a second's hesitation and a glance at Dean's pleading expression, Cas nodded.

Instead of joining them, Dean watched in rapt curiosity as what first appeared to be a dark shadow expanded from Cas's back, but eventually molded into a solid blanket of dark charcoal grey feathers. The wings seemed to pass through Cas's shirt without hindrance and without tearing the cloth, which intrigued Dean even more.

Cas's wings weren't as large as Life's and they were shaped slightly differently. Life's were large and full and fluffy, like a crane's, but Castiel's were sharp and dense and narrow, more like a falcon's. Life's wings reflected the light of the bunker until it was almost painful to look at, each feather glowing with the light of a star. Cas's seemed to draw the light in, soaking it up as well as the stares of whoever glanced his way. 

Dean was riveted by the sight of the giant shadowy mass. He reached out and tentatively touched one, his hand gliding smoothly over the soft grey surface. “ Cas... these are amazing.” He was awestruck.

The angel smiled meekly and look down at his lap. “I wonder what yours will look like when they come in.”

“They'll be white for a while.” Life educated. “White is the color of uniformity. They'll gradually change as his personality affects them. And I'm assuming they'll be more like yours in shape than like mine. Yours are the wings of a warrior – mine are the wings of... a sage.” 

“ These are wonderful, but how do we pull them back in?” Cas asked as he slammed one into the bookshelf behind him. The only reason it didn't fall over was because it was flush up against the wall. Dean smiled at his lack of coordination.

“Reverse the process. You forced them out, now imagine drawing them in.” 

Cas listened to his words, his brow furrowing in concentration. Nothing happened at first, but then his wings gradually just shrank into his back, disappearing under his shirt like they were never there to begin with.

Dean's eyes were as wide as his grin, and his smile was infectious. “That is  _ awesome _ .”

 


	40. Chapter 40

Sam walked in as Castiel's wings vanished. All he saw were two shadows disappearing behind the angel and Dean grinning like an elementary student, but he soon ditched the idea of asking them what that was all about. He figured he'd know eventually. 

“Hey Sammy. What's up?” Dean asked as he saw his brother, his silly, ear-to-ear grin disappearing under a facade of stern masculinity. 

Sam shrugged and glanced around. “Nothin'. I mean like... literally  _ nothing _ . I was just comin' to see what you guys were doing since Gabriel left and Charlie's taking a nap.”

“We were just talkin'.” Dean answered. “I was asking Life about my back and he said I'm gonna have  _ wings _ . I guess I really  _ am  _ turning into an angel.”

“Your personality suited a demon more, I think.” Sam said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. Dean plucked an ice cube out of his cup of liquor and threw it at his little brother. 

Sam made a noise of disgust and threw it back, but Dean swatted it out of the air before it hit him.  Ignoring his brother, Sam asked Life “ So, if Dean –” 

Before he could finish, a loud knock echoed across the bunker, coming from the front door. Everyone looked at each other, no one knowing who it might be. No mortal alive knew where they lived, and the bunker was warded against anything supernatural finding it.

That meant that whoever it was had been there before. But they were all there, all accounted for. Charlie was in her room, Gabriel didn't need to knock, Sam and Cas and Dean were all sitting in the same room, and Life was with them. Dean's first initial thought was Crowley, but the demon didn't know where the bunker was. He was always blindfolded or incapacitated when they brought him there. 

Together, they all jumped up from their positions and headed toward the door, long years of hunting experience reasserting themselves and forcing the boys to draw their weapons and creep silently toward the locked portal. Life didn't get up, content to watch from afar and give assistance where needed, and Cas simply teleported to the door in an instant.

When Sam and Dean finally made it to the door after a tense minute of quietly walking and silent breathing, Cas undid the six different locks that prevented the door from opening and peeked out through the resulting crack. Hurriedly, he slammed the door again and gazed at the brothers, wide-eyed and speechless.

“What, Cas? What's wrong?” Dean asked in a whisper. Cas glanced at him but said nothing.

“Cas, who is it?” Sam chimed in at almost the exact same time.

The angel regained control over his face and took a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “I must not have seen his face correctly. He died a year ago. He can't be here.” At their questioning looks, he said “You might not want me to open the door.”

“Why?  _ Who is it _ ?” Dean asked.

“Gadreel.”

 

Dean muttered something under his breath, and Sam's eyes blinked and grew wide. 

“Gadreel? Why is Gadreel here, we didn't really part on good terms!” Dean had ceased to care about whispering and was talking loudly now, his anger coming out in the form of articulate hand gestures and clipped sentences.

“More importantly,  _ how is he back from the dead _ ?” Sam asked. “Angel's can't come back, can they?”

“I've died multiple times, Sam. And yet here I stand.” Cas said, his hand still on the door knob. “Should I let him in?”

“No!” Dean shouted.

“Of course.” Sam answered with a glance at his brother. Dean turned and glared at him.

Noting the tension between them, Cas threw the door open to let in the bright September sunlight and the warm breeze of the last vestiges of summer. The bright light caused the three of them to blink and squint, but when their eyes adjusted it was obvious that Cas hadn't lied. Gadreel, in the body of his last vessel, was standing there in the doorway looking apologetic and humiliated.

“If you would like for me to leave, I will do so.” He said before anyone could say a word. “I thought maybe I'd be welcome here since Heaven no longer wants me.” He pointedly avoided Dean's murderous gaze, instead allowing his sight to dance from merciful Castiel, to benevolent Sam. 

Cas turned to look at Dean, but spoke to the angel outside. “Of course you can come in, Gadreel. Without your help we wouldn't have stopped Metatron last year.” Dean was going to argue and interject, but Cas's fingers around his bicep sufficiently quieted him.

Eden's Sentry tried to step into the bunker, but a wave of golden light shimmered in the door frame, magically sealing him out. Life stood behind them, having appeared behind Sam silently, and sighed. Sam jumped as he felt Life's hand push him out of the way, but after the initial contact  his attention was devoted to the angel in the doorway.

Life grabbed Gadreel's shoulder and hauled him in, the contact between their skin allowing him entry. 

“Shall we travel down these steps to more spacious areas, or are we going to stand up here crowded together and talk like this?” Life asked as he started descending the large metal steps. Sam followed him, Dean on his heels. Cas occupied the space between Dean and Gadreel, preventing any conflict between them.

Once they were down at the table once more, Life looked at Gadreel and smiled. “It's been a long time since I've seen you, kid. How you doin'?” His smile was fond and gentle, but Gadreel didn't return it. Instead, he looked down and folded his hands into his lap. 

“I do not know.” He said honestly. “I should be dead, but I am here.”

Dean snorted. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. Wanna tell us something we don't already know?” 

Gadreel returned Dean's steely look with one of his own. “Abel was transgender.” His face remained deadpan as Dean's furrowed in confusion. 

“Abel?”

“The son of Adam and of Eve?” 

Sam's eyes bored into Dean's, relaying a list of threats if his older brother didn't  _ just shut the hell up _ . Dean got the message and quieted, refusing to piss off his bigger little brother.

“So... how are you back?” Sam asked. “Did God put you back together or...?” He shrugged as his question faded into silence, but Gadreel's look gave him the answer.

_ I don't know _ .

Life's voice was the next to be heard. He was sitting across from Gadreel and Sam, next to Cas and with him, Dean. “I believe  _ I  _ am the one to blame for that, actually. Well... half way. Dean's also responsible.”

_ “What?” _ Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head in Life's direction. “ How on  _ Earth  _ am I to blame for this walking corpse?” He gestured toward Gadreel, who said nothing. It was obvious that he was thinking something though.  _ I could come up with thousands of better insults in the time it took for you to create that one _ .

“Think about it, man. You killed Death. Did you expect the dead to stay that way for long? Do mortal men ever follow the will of a dead king? No, so why would their remains be any different?”

“I am not a mortal man.” Gadreel stated simply.

Life rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. “It's an analogy.”

“So because Death is dead and you're not, things aren't going to stay dead?” Sam asked. 

“Not until we can find a  _ new  _ Death.” Life said. The way his gaze lingered on Dean made the man slightly uncomfortable... “But I can't imagine that will take very long.”

“What do you mean?” Cas said. “We can't find a  _ new  _ Death. He's a universal super-power, like you.”

The corner of Life's mouth twitched upward nervously. “Right.” He looked at Gadreel, then at the others apologetically. “However good it might be to have the host of Heaven being restored, it also means that a lot of bad can happen as well. Dean, I think you know what I mean by that.” His gaze left no room for argument, and Dean sighed.

“What does he mean, Dean?” Sam asked, his jaw working in circles. It was  _ just  _ like Dean to not say anything.

“A couple days ago, Crowley called me. He said that a lot of the demons we've killed over the years are springin' up all over the country. I didn't wanna tell you because we've had it good here for a while, and I didn't wanna ruin it.”

It was Sam's turn to sigh. “You didn't think I might have liked to know that?” He shook his head, throwing his anger into the back of his mind. “You... which demons are back?” He closed his eyes and leaned back, putting his arms around the chairs next to him. Gadreel shifted in his seat as Sam's meaty arm draped around it.

“Meg, for one.” Sam didn't look too bothered by that. “Uh... Alastair.” Cas's face morphed into disgust at the name. “ Abaddon. Lilith.... Ruby. Maybe even Cain.”

Sam's eyes flicked open and he sat up at Lilith's name to glare at Dean. He swore profusely and stood when the memory of Ruby flickered through his consciousness and began pacing the room, not looking at his brother. 

“Oh and  _ maybe  _ Cain. At least we don't have to deal with  _ him  _ again.  _ Hopefully _ .” Sam swore again and sat back down, only to stand a split second later. “I cannot  _ believe _ you, Dean. After all this time of  _ not  _ telling me things, you'd think you'd  _ learn _ .”

“Hey, I'm not the one that went behind my brother's back and  _ started  _ this whole mess trying to get rid of the  _ damn Mark _ .” Dean shot back.

“I was  _ saving  _ you! You didn't tell me because “I'm comfortable now”! Or some total bull. We could be hunting them right now, killing them  _ again _ , and making sure they  _ stay  _ dead now if you had told me! And  _ don't  _ try to compare this to the Mark. That was killing you. This isn't.” He shook his head and left the room, fuming.

 


	41. Chapter 41

Dean stared straight ahead as Sam stormed from the room, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He grumble something similar to “sorry for being _nice_ ”, but he said it at such a pitch as to be entirely unintelligible.

A thought occurred to him and he looked up at Life, a question poised on the tip of his tongue. He gathered his thoughts, inhaled and paused, then said “Crowley said that the _Darkness_ was bringing the demons back to life.” It was a statement, but the way he said it made his confusion obvious.

“My brother's absence and my return are making them come back. The Darkness, however, is the issue. If it weren't here they'd come back as humans. Since it's free to manipulate the afterlife as much as I am though, it's making them all come back as demons.”

“So how do we kill'em all again?”

“Honestly? I don't know. The last time I had to deal with demons, Michael and Lucifer were still using training wheels. And I've never had to worry about them not staying dead.”

“Aren't you just a ray of sunshine?” Dean asked sardonically.

Life gave him a smoldering look. “What do you expect? I only helped create everything. I didn't get to see if it all worked the way I planned.”

“How long you gonna keep using that as an excuse?”

“Dean, knock it off.” Cas's gravelly voice rumbled next to him. “He's done nothing wrong. Be kind.”

Dean snorted and glanced over at his boyfriend. “He's done nothing wrong because _he's done nothing,_ Cas.” Turning back to Life, he asked “Are you even capable of doing anything? All I've seen you do so far is piss people off and make excuses as to why you can't get off your ass and fight.”

Life's eyes flashed green and suddenly, instead of Dean sitting in front of him there was a bowl. Inside the bowl was a guppy about the size of Castiel's thumb.

“However weak you assume me to be, Dean, know this: there is more power in a thread of my hair then there is throughout your entire existence. I have been battling the Darkness since we escaped the Mark, and without me it would have already destroyed the universe as you are capable of comprehending it. God would have done nothing and Love was _just_ as content to sit back and not intervene if it wasn't for me. You owe everything you are and everything you will _ever_ become to me. Do not forget that.” He snapped and Dean reappeared on his seat.

But Life was gone.

 

“I am _tired_ of that little prick always bossin' people around and acting like he's God or something.” Dean muttered. Cas gave him a bland look.

“He is closer to being God than anyone, Dean. Even when I held every soul in Purgatory I couldn't rival his power. I think you just misunderstand him.” The angel's voice was ever the voice of reason, but Dean would have none of it.

“I don't understand him? Cas, what has he done since you got rid of the Mark?”  
“He saved Sam's life even when an _Archangel_ couldn't, for one. He released two others from Lucifer's Cage. He resurrected another, as well as a dozen gods _and_ Charlie. He killed Metatron and left his body in an abandoned diner, he restored my grace, is making you an angel, and is probably doing far more for the world than either of us can comprehend. I'm not sure where you get the idea that he hasn't done anything, because it seems like he's done a lot to me.” Dean's anger cracked under Castiel's sound logic and unwavering gaze, but his pride was too wounded to admit defeat. After all, he _was_ just turned into a fish.

“Seems like there's more he could do, though.” The mortal man grumbled. Cas sighed.

“He's doing more than any of us. Love can do more. _God_ can do more. Hell, _we_ could even probably do more but instead we've sat here in our dungeon for weeks without a single hunt. Maybe that's why you're upset – because you've gotten lazy.” He pushed Dean's shoulder gently and Dean gave him a wry look.

“You're the lazy one.”

“I think we should go try to hunt down some of these newly resurrected demons.”

“I think we should too.”

“Do _you_ want to get Sam, or would you rather have me do it?”

Dean's eyebrows furrowed and arched downward. “You get him. I'll get the car ready.”

 

An hour later the four original compatriots (Sam, Dean, Cas, and Charlie) were cruising down the interstate going toward a set of coordinates Dean had gotten from Crowley. The King of Hell was supposed to meet them there to assist in tracking down the rogue demons, but no one was really excited to see him again. They'd grown … _fond_ of not having him around. Dean was blaring some raucous song by Def Leppard that only he really enjoyed, but no one else really had the nerve to tell him to change it. They were all rather excited to be back at it; every single one of them was starting to go crazy with cabin fever, which seemed to be instantly cured by the warm September air that blasted in through the windows as they cruised down the highway, alleviating the tension that had built up between the boys just a short time before.

Dean and Sam were in the front seats, discussing what was to be done about the resurrected angel that was still at the bunker. It was obvious that Gadreel was noticeably weaker than he was before sacrificing himself to free Cas from the angel prison and Sam was determined to give him a place to stay and recuperate, but Dean would have none of it.

“Sam, the last time we gave that guy a chance to get better he killed on of our best friends.” Dean's lack of trust came mostly from Kevin's murder, but it had other sources as well. “And he very easily could have killed any of the rest of us, too.”

“Because you let him possess me, Dean.” Sam shot back. “He has his own body now and we _all_ know what he's capable of. I think we can let him just _relax_ for at least a little while. Besides, he might even be helpful.”

“How?”

“One more person to get groceries. One more angel to smite demons. Hell, we might even be able to find a girl to shove him into and he and Charlie can date.” He glanced back at the redhead and smiled teasingly. “After all, she _is_ the only human here that's not in love with an angel.”

“And I plan on keeping it that way, Sam.” Charlie gave him a dry look in response. “Angels are too _stiff_ for my taste.”

“I didn't think _Anna_ was that stiff.” Dean said in remembrance. “You and her could have gotten along nice.”

“She was crazy and Michael killed her. That can't happen, Dean.” Cas said from behind his boyfriend.

“She was pretty crazy, wasn't she?” Sam laughed at her memory, then shoved Dean's shoulder. “But anyway, we're letting Gadreel stay in the bunker until at least the end of the month. Then if you haven't changed your mind we'll make him leave.”

“Or we'll all die in a car wreck because you keep pushing me off the side of the damn road.” The eldest brother grumbled.

After a stop for lunch and another for a bathroom and gas, they came to some old graveyard in central Colorado near the small town of Breckenridge. Even though it was early September and the throes of summer still gripped the world for at least another week, the air there was brisk and forced even the angel in the backseat to don a jacket.

“I don't understand.” Cas said when they all climbed out of the car and looked around. “This is where Crowley said to meet him.”

“Did you think I was going to _lie_ to you?” A voice said behind the angel, causing him to jump and turn around. Sure enough, the King of Hell stood there wrapped in his black suit and covered by a knee-length black overcoat. “I want these stupid trolls as dead as you do.”

“Crowley. Long time no see.” Dean said from behind a gravestone.

Crowley shot him a disparaging look. “Squirrel. Did you miss me?” He looked up as Sam and Charlie entered his view from opposite sides, giving them both sideways glances.

“Not a chance.” Dean shook his head, unfazed by the demon's mocking friendliness. “So how're we gonna hunt these demons down? And why haven't you killed'em all already?”

“I haven't killed them all because I actually _like_ some of them, and the ones that I don't like I've no time for. But hey, you four don't seem to be doing much of _anything_ anymore so I thought I'd give you a pass-time as you wait for your world to end.”

“What've you been doing if you haven't been tracking down Hell's Greatest Criminals?” Sam asked. He didn't care much for the king before him.

“Getting high and watching _Dragon Tails_ . What do you think Moose? I've been trying to keep Hell in order. It's not that easy when the living won't die and the dead just up and _leave_ whenever they want. The demons are getting pissy because our soul count has dropped from a few thousand a day to _maybe_ ten. All thanks to you lot.”

“You expect us to care?” Dean leaned against the grave marker he was standing by – a massive ugly grey thing so worn down it was illegible entirely.

“Never. Your feelings are nasty things.” Crowley muttered. “I do, however, expect you to _understand_ that I've been busy and four or five little pests aren't really something that demands my undivided attention.”

Cas rolled his eyes and pocketed his phone that he was still holding idly in his left hand. “We're not here to discuss Hell's political situation, Crowley. We're here to get rid of as much of your kind as possible.”

“Aren't you such a pleasure to be around.” Crowley said dryly. “If you want to kill my subject I really don't have an issue with that. Meg is out and about again wreaking havoc on my topside assistants because she has some personal vendetta toward me or something. Samantha, your girlfriend from way back when is with her, wherever she is so that _should_ spike your interest at least. And Abaddon is leading them, _again_.”

“What about Lilith and Alastair and Azazel?” Sam asked. His face was studiously blank but everyone there had been around him long enough to know that he was pissed and trying to hide it.

“I killed Azazel personally. He was always too much of a prat to follow directions. Lilith and Alastair are working with me now, helping me keep Hell in line. With Abaddon and Bitch Brigade she's leading it's a good thing they're here too. I wouldn't be here if they weren't.”

Dean sighed. “Those two _always_ have to screw things up.” Crowley glared at him.

“So where are they at?” Charlie asked. “The three girls.”

“I don't know. The last time I heard anything on them they were outside of Portland causing damage up north. You could try there if you wanted. They should still be up there close – demon travel has been weird since the Darkness broke out.”

“You seem to have gotten _here_ pretty safe and sound.” Sam's eyebrow arched in question.

“Yeah, _now_. I've been trying to get here for most of the day. I ended up in the middle of the Atlantic the first time!”

“So you _can_ travel. But it's unpredictable.” Charlie examined. “Then what's preventing the other three from bouncing around randomly too?”

“It's dangerous. Any demon that's not me gets torn to pieces if they try.”

“Abaddon might still be able to.” Dean pointed out.

Crowley shook his head. “Not if she's traveling with Ruby and Meg. If she popped them anywhere they'd be nothing but puddles of blood on the ground at her feet.”

“She should try it then.” Sam said pessimistically. Crowley snorted in response.

“So are you gonna help us or not?” Dean questioned the demon, who gave him an offended look.

“Of _course_ I'm going to help! Have I _ever_ asked you to do something and not assisted you in some way?” At their looks he rolled his eyes and pulled three tiny bags out of his jacket pocket. Hex bags. “Never mind. I picked apart one of these from my mother when she killed one of my best and learned to make them myself. They're strong enough to kill the wee ones, and if they can't kill Abaddon hers will at least cripple her enough for you to detain her somehow.” He set them on the hood of the impala, making a dull _thud_ as the weighty bags came into contact with the hollow metal.

“But you're not coming, are you? You're expecting us to take care of _your_ problems.” Dean crossed his arms and leaned on one leg as he spoke.

“Isn't that the way it always works? I find something minutely inconvenient and you knights in shining armor come to my rescue. What else would I pay you for?”

“You don't pay us for anything.” Castiel's head tilted sideways in his trademark look of confusion. The King of Hell rolled his eyes again.

“Anyway, yes I _will_ be there. _If_ I can get there in time.”

“It should take us at least eighteen hours to get there from here. Do you think you can be there by then?” Dean questioned. Crowley made a few vague gestures then nodded. Dean nodded back once, and in a snap Crowley was gone.

“I can't believe were working with him again.” Sam complained. “We were doing so well without him and now at the first mention of his name our lives have been thrown into chaos. _Again_.”

“You and me both, man.” Was all Dean would say before climbing into the impala.

 


	42. Chapter 42

They drove all that day and throughout the night, eventually coming to stop to sleep at a tiny little bed and breakfast along the Idaho-Oregon border. The old couple nearly turned them down until they could convince them that Cas and Dean were, in fact, “cousins” and _totally not_ head-over-heels in love with each other. It was easy enough for Sam and Charlie to feign being in a relationship for a short while, despite the mutual lack of attraction. After they settled in, Gabriel dropped by to see Sam and report on Gadreel, since he agreed with Dean to keep watch over the sentinel until they returned home to the bunker.

Bright and early the next morning, they left once more. It only took them a few hours from there to get to Portland, and then another twenty minutes to find Crowley again.

Upon meeting the King of Hell again, Dean's face crinkled into a silent question. After a tense moment of Crowley just standing there under Dean's gaze, the soon-to-be angel asked “You look different. I don't know how, really, but you do. Have you gotten taller? Or a tan or something?”

Crowley's face mimicked Dean's. “No, pipsqueak. _I_ haven't changed a bit. _You_ , however, have. You're brighter. Not _intelligence_ -wise of course, but your soul. You look more like feather-head over here.” His eyes sparkled darkly, and his mouth twisted into a mischievous grin. “You told me you were together, but you didn't say you were bound front to back.”

“Front to–?” Dean's face went studiously blank as Sam looked away in second-hand embarrassment and Charlie snorted in laughter.

“Where's Abaddon, Crowley?” Cas asked. He out of all of them was the most eager to get back to _doing_ things other than sitting around and waiting for God or Life to fix all of their problems. He _was_ a warrior of heaven, after all.

Crowley's face lost all vestiges of joy and he gave the angel a piercing look, which Cas returned. After a second of staring at each other, Crowley said “We're in luck. She's still near here; one of my men saw her yesterday at around sunset. She's headed south along the I-5 toward Salem and Eugene.”

“She could be long gone by now. If she's been goin' south for twelve hours she could be in California by now.” Dean shook his head slightly as he spoke.

“I asked some demons in the area to give her a little hell to slow her down for you. We can only hope that they actually succeeded and didn't get caught. I hear she's even more blood thirsty than usual, now with the Darkness screwing everything over.” Crowley answered. “If they're any good at following directions, she shouldn't be more than halfway to the border.” He blinked, then squinted at Dean like he was holding a flashlight to the demon's eyes. “God, you were ugly before and now I have to deal with you _glowing_ all the time?” He rolled his eyes and turned as if to walk away.

Dean growled something under his breath, then asked “Where are you going?”

“To find _Abaddon_ , obviously. Where have you _been_ this entire conversation?”

 

It wasn't too hard to find the Knight, but it did take most of the day to do so. She wasn't really one for subtlety, but distance alone demanded that they not find her right away. She left a fairly obvious trail though, and once they found her tracks it didn't take them long to get to her.

The first place they had found that she and the others with her had visited was a bar outside of Portland. Its little parking lot was full of cars, but it was eerily quiet. They found out why when they walked in and every person inside had an opened throat, a stab wound to some vital organ, or their eyes were seemingly gouged out by claws. The second and third places were very similar, but weren't as obvious; a massacred campsite here, a still-running yet vacant car there. Following her was about as easy as following a cargo ship in the open ocean – it was the only thing that looked out of the ordinary for miles around.

They passed through Salem and Eugene, and followed the interstate until they were just north of the border when they finally found the trio of demons they were tracking. The sun still had perhaps an hour until it set, but even with his face beaming down on the early November earth, it was still frigid. They were all more than glad that Dean had gotten around to fixing the heater/AC unit in the impala after it had broken the month before.

The diner that they had finally cornered the Knight of Hell in was still bustling with life when they got there. They didn't barge in immediately like they might be prone to. Instead, they followed a plan that Castiel and Crowley devised while riding in the backseat of the Impala on the way there. It was more of Crowley's idea than Cas's, but Dean and Sam wouldn't listen to the demon.

They waited until well after all of the guests had left and only the usual late-night drunks lingered around. By that time they were all too drunk-off-their-asses to remember anything they were about to witness anyway. Or at least, too drunk for anyone to believe them.

As per the strategy, Sam walked into the bar alone. They'd been watching the demons' activity through the window with a couple of pairs of binoculars and Cas's angelic vision, and knew that only one demon was in the main room when he entered.

It was Ruby.

She was sitting at the bar when he entered, the only one still upright despite the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. It wasn't enough to knock her off her feet, just enough to heighten her senses and make her more careful of her actions. Just enough to make her more deadly.

Sam walked up behind her, poised to stab her through her heart with her own knife she'd given him what seemed like centuries ago. He held it in both hands at shoulder height, prepared for her to turn around and jump on him, or worse, for one of the other two to interfere.

Without turning around, she sniffed the air and said in a quiet voice “Hmm... smells like dragon bone. And that nasty hell-forged steel that's _so good_ at killing demons.” She turned in her bar-stool to look at him, smiling up into his face as she did so. “Heya, Sam. Long time no see, huh? But now I'm back and we can go behind your brother's back and do all _sorts_ of iniquity... again.”

At hearing her voice, his face twitched. “The only thing we'll be doing together revolves around this.” He flashed the knife in front of her, and she laughed.

“Do you _honestly_ think I'm afraid of that thing now?” She turned and grabbed her drink, some luscious brown thing with a couple of ice cubes in it. She took a sip and casually said “I've been hanging around Abaddon for a few weeks now. She's got a pretty rigid training regime, but _damn_ does it make you stronger.” She set her glass down and stood up, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she faced him. “Wanna try it out? All the regular guys we've been tearing up haven't put up anything even _close_ to a fight. It'd be fun to have a challenge again.” She smiled and her eyes blinked, switching to unnerving black. “Come on, Sammy. Didn't you miss dancing with me in the dark?”

 

“We're getting there.” Life's voice behind him made him jump almost all the way out of his chair. He'd been dozing... again. The Darkness was giving him such terrible writing block...

“Getting where?” Chuck asked. He rubbed his face and with a snap made a steaming mug of coffee appear in front of him.

Life gave the cup a disdainful look and said “Closer to finally killing the Darkness. Dean's practically ready to do it, and Sam and Cas and Charlie are working out just as well.”

God hesitated for a moment, then asked “should we really put such a big burden on them? I mean... are they ready?”

“Of _course_ they're ready. We set it _up_ so that they were ready. Cas contained all of the souls from Purgatory a couple years back, didn't he? And Dean killed Death, Sam's held both Lucifer _and_ Gadreel. They literally can't _get_ any stronger.”

“... I don't know. To let them become–”

“We've planned this since the dawn of creation. There was a reason _I_ was stuck in the shadow realm with the Darkness. There's a _reason_ Sam was Lucifer's vessel when he was cast into Hell the second time. There's a _reason_ Cas could hold all of Purgatory at once. Not even _Michael_ could hold millions of souls _as well as Leviathans_ inside of him without literally exploding from the power. They're _ready_.”

“Are we?” God's question took Life off guard. “Are we ready to give it to them?”

“We have to be. We can't win without it, and the universe will unravel if we don't. Either we give it to them, or we all die.”

 

Dean had sneaked around to the back of the bar, intending to go in the back way and cut off any chance of escape for Abaddon and Meg. He had the hex bags meant for them in his jacket pocket, ready to be delivered to their proper carriers at the earliest possible opportunity. It wasn't going to be easy, but he was fairly certain he could do it.

Charlie was with him, which would make things different. She wasn't Sam, but she wasn't some whiny piss-baby either. Even though she wasn't the most physically imposing girl in the world, Dean trusted her. After all, she carried the Book of the Damned throughout Europe and the continental U.S. for him, and he'd personally seen how good at kicking ass she was. He knew “evil” Charlie was a good fighter, and she was locked away in this snarky redhead somewhere. She'd come out to play soon.

It was her job to shoot the demons with the devil's trap bullets, which Crowley had a demon make out of pure iron, and then coated in holy water and salt. It was designed to weaken them as much as possible for the hex bags to actually have a chance at killing them.

They thought themselves lucky when the back door opened without a single sound. The luck, however, was short lived.

As soon as Charlie's back foot crossed the threshold, the door shut behind them. A disembodied chuckle came from next to the moonlit frame, and a light flicked on to show a grinning Abaddon leaned against the wall, one hand still pushing the door shut.

“Hello again, Dean.” She glanced sideways at Charlie. “ _And_ his new girlfriend.”

Charlie made a face and said “We're not dating. He's not my type.” Dean's eyes had widened in shock and what looked like horror, but he said nothing.

“What's wrong with you?” She asked Dean. “You look brighter than you did before. And I _don't_ mean smarter.” At Charlie's words, Abaddon blinked in surprise. “What do you mean, 'not your type'? You a dike, or something?”

“That's an incredibly rude way of saying that, but yes. Guys aren't really my thing.”

“Were you expecting me to be polite? I'm a demon, sweetie. I'm not here to play nice.”

Charlie shrugged. “Neither am I, bitch.” She brought her pistol up and shot it directly at Abaddon's head, but the Knight dodged it easily and laughed in response.

“You've got spunk, kid. Maybe after I kill you I'll go down to Hell and turn you into a demon. You'd be a hell of an addition to our little trio already.” She pushed herself away from the wall and walked forward slowly. “You guys really aren't that bright, are you?” She asked, smiling. “Don't you think it was a bit obvious that I wanted you to come here? I mean _really_. Three demons goin' around together, killing everything in their path like a bunch of wild animals. Don't you think it might have been a little _too_ bright of a beacon fire?”

“What, are you sayin' you _wanted_ us to come here?” Dean asked.

Abaddon's eyebrows raised and she tilted her head pointedly. “Obviously. Rowena asked us to do her a favor and we were just _too_ happy to oblige. She figured she couldn't get rid of you with that giant glowing ass hovering over your shoulder all the time, so she thought maybe we'd be able to slip under Life's radar and tear you up. _Again_.”

“You shouldn't count on that.” Dean said. In a flurry of movement he drew his own pistol, which he'd concealed before they even got out of the car, and shot her in the chest, the bullet sinking deep in between her ribs and into her heart. She gasped, more in surprise then pain, which proved to be her undoing.

Dean sprung forward and shoved the hex bag marked “ _A_ ” into her open mouth, causing her to choke and gag. Crowley's magic took affect and she dropped to the ground in a writhing mess. Just as they were about to high-five for taking out the biggest challenge first, they heard a crash from the dining area and rushed to Sam's aid.

The younger brother was being tossed around like a rag doll by his long-lost demonic girlfriend, and she looked like she was thoroughly enjoying it. Across the bar, Meg was sitting in a booth making a commentary of the fight to a little old man that was snoring gently, but she didn't bother to get up and intervene.

Dean gave her a horrified look that she chuckled at, then turned toward his brother and his problem. Sam saw him and Charlie enter the room, but before he could say anything he was thrown over a table and flattened on the ground.

Ruby turned and looked at them, only to squint when she saw Dean. “Hey guys. Or girl, in your case.” She looked at Charlie without empathy. “Why the hell are you so glow-y, Dean?”

Dean didn't answer. From Charlie's point of view, he didn't seem capable of doing so. He just... _stopped_.

Ruby saw that he wasn't going to interfere and went back to turning Sam into a living punching bag. Her knife was gone, buried deep in the heart of the innocent bartender who lay in a crumpled heap behind the counter, and the hex bag that Sam had kept on him was nothing but a deflated ball under a vacant booth.

“ _Dean_!” Sam's agonized voice snapped his brother out of whatever reverie he'd been put under, and Dean sprung into action. He couldn't get a shot fired at Ruby when she was so close to Sam, so he wrenched the knife from the cute bartender's dead chest and jumped over the counter to help his brother.

Before he could though, a hacking Abaddon came out of the storage room and practically body-slammed Charlie into him, sending his angle of trajectory askew. Instead of sliding into the rescue to stab Ruby in her chest, he careened into a table and dropped to the floor.

“Wow. You guys are more pathetic than I remember.” Ruby said as she picked Sam up with one hand and slammed him into a support beam. “And whatever happened to Castiel? I'm surprised he's not here losing with you guys, I mean he was _always_ so far up Dean's ass you could barely see him without Dean bending over. Did you guys finally scare him off? Or is he dead?”

“I'm neither.” Cas and Crowley were suddenly sitting at the central table, looking totally relaxed surrounded by passed-out drunks, dead bodies, and demons.

Crowley smiled at Abaddon. “Haven't I already dealt with you? Why can't you just _stay_ dead?”

At his appearance, she growled and tightened her hold on Charlie's neck. The mortal remained as compliant as possible in the choke-hold that could easily end her life with the twitch of Abaddon's arm, hoping to _not_ die as much as possible. “You were clever to think of the First Blade before, but now how are you going to get rid of me? It was the only thing that had a chance at killing me, and now it's gone and you're in a predicament.”

“No.” Cas said calmly. “We're not.” He looked up at the ceiling expectantly, and suddenly the room started to shake like an earthquake. Bright white light beamed in through the wide windows, and where it touched the demons, their skin hissed and steamed like holy water. It was for that reason Crowley had intentionally chosen the chair with the highest back in the room. King of Hell or no, angel fire still hurt.

Abaddon shouted an insult and let go of Charlie, her pale white skin sizzling and burning. Charlie dropped to the ground and rolled away toward Cas, who calmly set up a chair for her to sit down in.

Ruby had released Sam as well, and he and Dean helped each other stand and regain some semblance of posture. Meg had just simply sank lower in her seat, the protectively tall backing of the booth she was in guarding her from the light.

The door slammed open and four shadowy figures entered as the light faded. Once everyone's eyes had adjusted to the radical darkness that seemed to engulf the room once the light was gone, it was obvious who the four people were.

The Archangels.

Gabriel had walked over to Sam, smiling and asking if he was missed. Lucifer sauntered over and dropped into the seat across from Meg and next to the sleepy drunk she had been talking to, snapping him into non-existence as he tried to rest his drooling head on his shoulder. Michael hovered close to Cas and Crowley, giving the King of Hell a look of mild disgust as he did so. Behemoth simply stood in the doorway, preventing access in or out of the building.

“Hey girls!” Lucifer said cheerily. “Man I haven't seen the three of you in for- _ever_. How's it _going_?!”

“We're not here to converse with them, we're here to _kill_ them.” Michael muttered.

Abaddon laughed as she pulled out an angel blade from the back of her skin-tight black jeans. “That's cute, Michael. Must I remind you that you can't actually do that? You've been trying since Noah built the Ark, but yet here I am.” She smiled sarcastically.

“They might not be able to, but I can.” Behemoth's deep, rumbling voice caused all eyes to focus on him.

“And who might you be? A pet of Lucy's?” She nodded toward Satan, who arched an eyebrow in response.

“Try his older brother, whore.” Behemoth drew himself to his full height, towering over even Sam with his gigantic form. “I am the sole archangel with enough power to smite you, and I could have destroyed those to and even _him_ ” he pointed at Crowley “before I even stepped foot in this den of iniquity.”

“And what's your name, big guy? I like knowing the names of the angels I kill.”

“I am Behemoth. And killing me is harder than killing you.”

“We'll see.” She smirked haughtily and brandished the blade in her hand. “I'm pretty sure you can all die if this gets shoved through your skulls.”

“Abaddon, you can't win.” Lucifer said. He winked at Meg and continued. “There's not a snowball's chance in hell you're gonna step out of this alive tonight. If you give up we'll take you upstairs and shut you away someplace warm and airy and comfortable. Satan's promise.” He held three fingers up like a Boy Scout, and she laughed.

“Surrender to a bunch of bitter old women with wings? Nah, I don't think so.” She glanced at Ruby and Meg, the former as determined as she was, the latter the most indifferent one there.

“Suit yourself.” Michael shrugged and with a snap of his fingers made every door in the building slam shut. There would be no way out but death.

The battle that ensued was longer than the angels had expected, but shorter than Abaddon would have liked. Ruby, Sam, and Gabriel were in a fencing match with angel blades, while Meg and Lucifer were being a less-than-useless peanut gallery on the sidelines. They'd periodically throw corn nuts under the feet of those who were fighting from the little tin at the edge of their table, laughing as demon and angel alike slipped and slid on the hard little shells.

Abaddon was fencing off Behemoth, Michael, Dean, _and_ Cas all at once, and for a while she was winning. The mortal's guns were useless in such a small area and with so many people present, and none of them were willing to get within her reach with her blade. Only Behemoth could actually harm her, but the rest of them could weaken her enough for him to get close, but she wouldn't allow it.

After ten minutes of non-stop brawling, Abaddon isolated herself and said “It looks like we're at an impasse here. Obviously we're outnumbered and it'd take a miracle to get us out of here, but neither can you.”

“And why can't we?” Michael asked. His cheek was cut and glowing slightly from where she'd scratched him with his own sword. “We've got the man power with us. You've got nothing.”

Abaddon laughed, her stark white teeth flashing jovially. “Did you really think Rowena was gonna bring us back and not give us some gifts? A couple little presents here and there to help us get rid of things like you?” She blinked and her eyes turned into glowing red flames. “You see, we were prepared for angels. We knew that _he_ was gonna come.” She nodded toward Cas, who squinted at her. “So we had this _entire_ building drenched in holy oil, just for kicks. But that's only a beginner's trick. Watch _this_.” She pushed her hand out and every single person that had been fighting her, angel or human, was launched back into either a table, a booth, a chair, or a person. Most of the bystanders were now bodies, but a couple of them were still alive, cowering in the corners of the room as the hellish fight unfolded before them.

“You see guys, I'm Rowena's personal favorite. She _knows_ I'm the strongest demon in all of Hell, and she's only _rewarded_ me for that.” Behemoth and Michael were pinned close together, contained by the ultra-powered Knight of Hell. “And now I'm gonna reward _you_.” She leaned down close to Behemoth's face, keeping him restrained with her power as she reached down to grab his blade out of his hand. She hefted it, noted its weight and said “That's not a bad weapon. Stronger than this toothpick at least. I think I might take it with me after I'm done here.” Then, without pomp or parade, stabbed the most powerful Archangel in existence in the heart.

 


	43. Chapter 43

The explosion of light that blasted out of Behemoth was powerful enough to level the entire bar. There wasn't even a question that it was going to vaporize everything that wasn't an angel within the vicinity, but Cas and Gabriel blocked Charlie and Sam just in time, and although Dean was at the forefront of the blast, he was left unscathed. Ruby and Meg were both reduced to ashes... again, and Abaddon was burned to a crisp, but not dead.

She was lying on her back in the center of what used to be the floor, but was now just a black sheet of burnt wood. Her body was covered in massive burns, black and red and grisly purple. As the other angels were gathering themselves up and trying to recuperate, she started to stir.

As she stood, Dean looked at her and gasped.

He could see her meat-suit's body. It was burned to an unrecognizable degree, but it was healing fast and had already started to regain some of its previous shape and color. But around her vessel, like some sort of aura or halo, stood a monstrous creature he had never before had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing.

It was tall – six feet at least – and had a look of natural athleticism about it. It strongly resembled Medusa, but there were aspects of her that weren't in line with the myths and lore. She had snakes for hair, but instead of vipers they were cobras, and her eyes were a glistering green that screamed of pestilence. Her face was perfectly framed, and if she hadn't been so distractingly horrifying, Dean would have almost said she was _hot_.

Her body was muscular and intensely refined, but it was all covered in what looked to be shadowy black armor that blanketed her from collar-bone to ankle. Her hands were birdlike talons, complete with clawing hooks instead of fingers. Her feet were as the hooves of a goat, sleek and black and solid. In her right hand she wielded a whip, red and fiery and long, designed to torture the souls of the living and the dead. In her left she hefted a greatsword, as long as she was tall, black and dense and _evil_. Upon her head rested a volatile crown of pure gold, with a single, large ruby set into the center of the front. Behind her, two gargantuan wings, as red as blood, stretched up far enough to scratch the sky, and low enough to carve lines into the earth. All around her, great spheres of light grew steadily stronger as each angel started to rise, their various colors augmented by anger as they focused on the Knight before them.

Dean looked at Cas and exclaimed a surprise. Jimmy Novak's body was shimmering in incandescent white light, so bright that it made even the sun look like a faintly glowing star a million light-years away. Behind him, six wings of pure white fluttered around in perfect cohesion – the spiritual aspects of the falcon wings he'd revealed a week ago at the bunker. His entire countenance shimmered with the light of his grace, and his already blue eyes seemed to glow with the very light of God. Dean had thought him sexy before, but now... that didn't seem to fit. Now, he was _beautiful_.

“Cas... what the hell am I seeing?” He already had an idea, but the angel just shook his head.

“I'll tell you later. Now, we deal with Abaddon.” Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel were already converging on her, not even bothering with their blades. Instead, they were beating her down with pure angelic energy; their lights, green, red, and grey pummeling her from three different angles, their power smothering hers. Cas quickly joined in, his strength forming the perfect fourth with the Archangels, and under their combined power she withered.

From Sam's point of view, all was darkness, all was night. Abaddon looked like a charred husk of her former self, and the four angels were simply pointing their hands at her. _He_ couldn't see the glowing rays of grace like Dean could. All he saw was the physical side of the fight. This allowed him to act, instead of gaze on in wonder and amazement like his brother.

Together, he and Charlie crawled undetected toward where the back of the bar had been and started furiously digging through the rubble for an object they'd brought with them. After a few seconds of searching, Charlie poked Sam and held up the object in triumph, then together they crawled back toward the spiritual giants that were deadlocked with each other on the other side of the decimated wall.

Still crawling, Charlie approached the seething mass that was Abaddon's body, and as she did the demon opened her eyes. They were the color of poison instead of night, which frightened Charlie more than she was willing to admit, but it wasn't going to stop her from carrying out Sam's idea.

Without getting in the way of the four angel's death-beams, she placed the hex bag on Abaddon's chest and watched as the magic took affect.

Instead of making her choke on her own essence as Rowena's magic usually did, Crowley's, along with the combined force of the celestial beacons, made Abaddon _spontaneously_ _combust_. She glanced down at the small, half-burnt bag of canvas and screamed agonizingly as her already soot-covered body burst into shimmering blue flame. Her back arched and her hands curled into claws at her sides as her face stretched into a wordless screech, then she collapsed on the ground, dead once more.

As she died, a blast of electric blue light pulsed from her body and slammed into the four angels, knocking each one off of their feet and sending them all careening backwards. The three Archangels weren't lucky enough to have someone catch them, but Cas was. He fell practically right on top of Dean, who had just _barely_ enough time to brace himself and catch the seraph before they both went down.

Cas landed on Dean's forearms and rolled into his chest, barely managing to stop himself from carrying on over Dean's head. Dean lurched back from the force of his boyfriend slamming into him, but he held firm. Cas looked up at him and blinked as Dean said “See, in my dreams we're both wearing tuxes and walking down an aisle for the first time I have to carry you like this. Instead, we're in a bar that just got nuked and I'm pretty sure you're on fire.” Cas cursed as the stench of burning cloth filled the air, and snapped to extinguish the flames that had appeared on his left pant leg.

Dean laughed and set him down, kissing his cheek as he did so. It wasn't common for Dean to be so openly expressive with that many people around, but given the circumstances and the recent past, he felt he was entitled.

Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel were standing off on their own, discussing the results of the fight they were just dragged into. Sam and Charlie were standing finally, but Sam was having difficulty doing so. They'd find out later that he broke his fibula. Charlie was standing, but she was cradling her right arm and her left cheek had a nasty gash across it that looked burned _as well as_ bleeding. Both Dean and Cas were unscathed, but of the four of them the latter two were far more exhausted. Yes, Sam and Charlie had expended themselves physically, but it was a different matter entirely to duel with a Knight of Hell with nothing but magic.

After confirming that everyone was at least capable of moving without fainting or screaming, they all trudged over to the Archangels. They'd grown quiet in the past couple of minutes, allowing their more mortal comrades to pick themselves back up.

As they neared, Michael spoke. “Life will want to hear of this. He'll be glad that Abaddon is dead yet again, but he will not be pleased that Behemoth was killed in the process.”

“Another archangel dead.” Lucifer said sadly. “If another one of us dies, we might not be able to win this thing.”

 


	44. Chapter 44

After Michael and Lucifer left, Gabriel hung around to help with the other four. He healed Sam's leg and other bumps and bruises while Cas did the same for Charlie, then, after a quick kiss from Sam, took off as well. Life had, for some reason, given him full custody of Heaven for the time being, and he was almost entirely occupied by the task.

Once he was gone, they all headed toward the car to go home. They were all tired and understandably less talkative than they might be when otherwise leaving a bar, but they were all in relative good spirits. After all, having archangels to back you up and being able to kill Knights of Hell without the First Blade were very _good_ reasons to be happy.

An hour later when they were heading south on some old highway and Sam and Charlie were passed out in the back seat, Dean asked Cas a question that had been on his mind since he'd seen Abaddon.

“Hey... Cas, I got a question.” He started out at first, unsure of how to articulate his thoughts.

“What's on your mind?” The seraph was sitting closer than normal to Dean, and their hands were intertwined on the seat between them. As he spoke, Cas stroked Dean's thumb gently with his own.

“Back at the bar, after Behemoth died, I thought I saw somethin' around Abaddon. And then other things around the four of you angels. But I'm not sure what.”

“Well... what did they look like?”

“There was just a lot of light coming off of you guys, but Abaddon almost looked like Medusa.” He glanced over at Cas, then blinked, winced, and looked away. “And there's like eight wings stickin' out of your back right now and they're bright as hell.”

“Hell's not that bright, and there's only six.” Cas corrected kindly. Dean nudged him with his arm, urging him to continue. Cas sat up a little straighter, pulled Dean's hand into his lap, and said “What your seeing is our true forms. Angels are, by nature, creatures of pure light. We're nothing but creation magic so dense it took on a physical form. Demons, however, are different. Since they were once human, their true forms faintly resemble what their souls appeared to be. Of course, it's a highly mutilated and tortured version of themselves, but it's supposed to be them.”

“So Abaddon was actually Medusa?”

“No. Her soul, back when she was human, must have been all of the more attractive aspects of her form now. Everything that looked unnatural is what Hell has done to her. The snake hair, the wings, hooves, claws. All of them are corrupted versions of what she once was.”

“What about her crown?”

“Every Knight of Hell had one, each one with a different color, together making up the entire spectrum. Abaddon's was red, but there was also a blue, green, grey, white, black, orange, yellow, purple, and Cain's was clear.”

“So... what did I look like when I was a demon?”

“You looked vastly similar to what you look like now, since you were only a demon for a short time. Your skin was red and you had ram's horns, but other than that and your crown you looked normal.”

“I had a crown?”

“You were a Knight of Hell, remember?”

“What color was _my_ gem then?”

“Green, what color did you think?”

They drove the remainder of the distance to the nearest hotel in companionable silence, neither one needing to say anything to the other. At one point Cas had laid his head on Dean's shoulder for comfort, and they sat that way until they came to rest.

Sam and Charlie stumbled around until they found their room and respective beds, both of them falling asleep almost immediately when they did so. Cas didn't need to sleep and Dean no longer felt tired, so they stayed up together and watched TV and talked about random things that would cross their minds from time to time. Dean had a million questions about being an angel, like how to teleport and smite things, if angel warding would work on them now that they were both partially human, what kind of angel he would be. Cas had jokingly called him a Cupid as the last question arose, but Dean had stubbornly insisted that he'd be an Archangel one day.

At one point, his back had began to ache again, now that his adrenaline had settled and his body was returning to normal. He rolled onto his back at Castiel's behest, and the angel had given him a loving, grace-assisted back massage to help dull the pain. With the assistance of the magic, Dean had never felt more relaxed and gradually drifted off into a short nap.

 

When he came to, he could hear voices other than Cas's in the room. He could make out Sam's the easiest (after spending thirty-plus years around the man, it would be weird if he _wasn't_ the first to be noticed), but then he also noted Charlie's and Crowley's.

He pushed himself up off of his chest and rolled over to be able to properly greet his uninvited guests. After yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he opened them to look at the King of Hell. He didn't really care that Crowley was there, he just wanted to know for how long. After all, if they weren't friends they were at least work partners, weren't they?

His eyes grew wide with frightened surprise as he saw Crowley's true form. Despite the lack of hostility, he was even more terrifying than Abaddon had been.

The first thing Dean noticed was his height. His vessel was short, but he himself was _massive_. Nine feet tall from boot sole to scalp, he had an air of patient authority that belied his true deadliness. Great, black horns rose from his dark head and brushed through the ceiling, hiding how long they truly were in the stucco and insulation. Every part of Crowley was either pitch black or blood red, from his tarnished skin to his crimson eyes. His face was gaunt and stretched thin over regal bones and sharp features, making him look his age. His eyes were piercing and penetrating, and when he looked at Dean, the man could feel his soul cringing in response. Red, dragon-like wings so large, they dominated the entire eastern half of the room draped themselves across his back and completely covered Sam.

Abaddon had been donned in armor and combat fatigues, but Crowley was dressed in a billowing black robe, fit to his title of King. They were simple and unadorned, but swirled like pools of ink as he moved. From around the base of his wings, a crimson cloak descended and stretched low to the ground behind him. His hands and feet were lost amid the folds of the ethereal fabric. The crown he wore also put Abaddon's to shame. Hers was like a tiara – short and gold and designed more for flash than force. Crowley's looked like someone had built a fortress atop his head; large and sooty black, the only way it stayed stable was by the strength of his horns, which rose above the spikes and spires of the sharded crown like two towers over a city of evil. Abaddon had been the fiery, fierce side of evil – of Hell – but one look at Crowley and Dean knew who the more dangerous one was. He was patient, cold, calculated, cunning. Abaddon had no strategy, but Crowley had the brains to create near-perfect plans, and in his most natural state he had the brawn to back them. The sheer enormity of the power radiating off of him was enough to severely mute the power of Sam's soul hidden under his wings, and Charlie's across the room. Even Cas's true form looked to be small and dangerously inadequate next to the immensity that was Crowley. He was also glowing strangely. Around the shadowy darkness of his core, a slight glow of golden light permeated his presence; the blessing of Life. In that moment, Dean had a new-found respect and fear for the King of Hell.

He must have spent a little too long gawking at Crowley, because Sam was calling out to him and saying something, but Dean only caught the last three words.

“Hold on a sec, Sam.” Dean said. He turned to Cas and asked “Is there like... a way to turn this off? I can't even _see_ my brother under all of that... Crowley.” Both the demon and the vessel looked mildly insulted.

“I'll mute it for you until I can show you how to do it yourself.” Cas said as he reached up and touched Dean's forehead.

He felt a weird pressure behind his eyes and marveled as Cas's true being and Crowley's demonic self drew into their vessels, leaving only a tiny ball of light and shadow where two hulking monoliths of good and evil once were. Even Sam and Charlie's souls were dimmed down, so much so that everything almost started to look _normal_.

“That's better, thank you.” Dean said and kissed Cas on the cheek, making the angel blush. “What were you sayin' Sam?”

“I was just asking how you thought the night went. I mean, you seem to be the least shaken up by it.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, I think we did good. Dropped Abaddon, killed that bitch Ruby, and as a _bonus_ , got ridda Meg, too.” He turned toward the resident evil. “Guess those hex bags didn't work too well, though.”

“They _would_ have, if you numb-nuts had used them correctly.” Crowley pouted. “But I guess it's a good thing you called on the God Squad to get your job done.”

“That _is_ an advantage to being in relationships with angels.” Dean chuckled as he looked at Sam. The younger brother didn't look entirely comfortable with Crowley in such close proximity, but he seemed to be enduring it rather well.

“Say, Dean, you're looking a little more _luminescent_ than usual. What's gotten into you? Too much of your boyfriend?” Crowley glanced over at Cas, who turned bright red. The only thing more crimson in the room at that moment was Dean.

“Well when you put it that way it sounds weird, but yeah, I guess.” At his words, Crowley blanched and looked at the ground sheepishly.

After a second and a glance toward Sam, the King of Hell said “I should probably get going. I'm not one for small talk after all, _and_ I've got a kingdom to run. Tah-tah for now, boys. And girl.” He added with a glance at Charlie. Before anyone could respond, he was gone.

 


	45. Chapter 45

God jumped and sighed as he looked up from his computer, only to see Life sitting there, gazing at him expectantly. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, he closed his laptop and took a long drought of his coffee before saying anything.

When he was ready, he asked simply “What? What _now_?”

Life gave him an irritated look. “What do you think, _what_? Are you ready to get off your ass and do something, or are you just gonna sit back and drink nasty bean water for the rest of eternity while the rest of the universe falls to crap?”

“The world's not falling to crap. You've kept a pretty good lid on the Darkness for the past few months since you guys have been out.”

“She destroyed _half of Australia_ just two weeks ago!”

“Yes, but _only_ half. And besides, there aren't a lot of people in Australia, only the weird animals that Gabriel and Lucifer created way back when. And it's taken her _two weeks_ to be able to use you enough to bring any demons back from the dead. I'd say she's getting weaker.” Chuck leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head, crossing his legs on the table as he did so.

“But we both know it's only a matter of time before her power spikes again and she kills us all.” Life leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, his penetrating gaze boring into God's lax position and making him uncomfortable.

The stronger sighed and his care-free facade collapsed. He sat up straight again and mimicked Life's posture, but covered his face with his hands. “You know we aren't strong enough. We've gotten weaker, and without Death –”

“Together, though, we're strong enough. If we combined forces with the younger generation, we could end this _once and for all_. Is that not what we've been planning on? Since the beginning we've known that alone we aren't going to be enough. But now that our powers have re-manifested themselves in the others, we'll be able to destroy the Darkness for good. No Mark, no cage, no simple spell to lock her away. Just the inevitable. Just death.”

God contemplated what Life said for a few moments, then asked “What about the pantheons across the world? Are they ready? I know hunters have been killing them off for millennia, but do you think they'll still be enough to weaken her?”

“The minor gods have already held councils among their own religions, and many of them have started cross-cultural strengthening as well. In a matter of weeks, they could be fully mobilized and ready for the showdown.”

“What about Heaven? So many angels have died within the past ten years alone. It's so empty now. I went there last week, hidden so no one could see me, and it's like a ghost town, _literally._ There are more dead humans there than angels now, even with Death dead and you back.”

“We won't need all of Heaven this time. We planned so that we wouldn't, remember? We foresaw everything that's happened within the past seven billion years. We planned it all out. Hell, we planned _this_. My return, the Darkness, Rowena, all of them. Why are you so inclined to forget?”

“Not to forget, old friend.” God smiled sadly. “To doubt.”

 

After what seemed like several hundred years of driving, they finally made it back to the bunker. To home.

Sam and Charlie immediately went to their rooms the second the door was open, nodding off to sleep in beds they were familiar with. Even Dean dozed off for a couple of hours, despite his soul being more grace than the essence of humanity now. Cas entertained himself first by going and checking on Gadreel, who seemed to be doing fine. The sentinel was supposedly resting on one of the spare beds, but it looked more like he was guarding it from someone.

After checking on the disgruntled angel, Cas went up to Love's now-abandoned garden (which was still flourishing despite it being so late in the year), and conversed with the wildlife that drifted on the breeze or crept under the spatterings of dead leaves that covered the ground. It was peaceful there, and it was one of the only places he felt content to be alone in, without Dean.

He marveled much about how fate had seemingly brought them all together, and how the past seven years had seemed to him to be as long as the billions he had spent before them, before Dean. They were filled with so many more memories then his existence before, and he pondered them all fondly, both the good and the bad.

After a while, Gadreel emerged from the bunker and joined him. They talked about big things, and they talked about little things, subjects as great as the impending doom that lurked just over the horizon, and ones as little as the tarantula that crawled across Gadreel's foot and seemed to find a friend in the celestial. Cas felt a unique connection to Gadreel, a very similar one to the one he felt with Sam. Sam and Gadreel had a lot in common, and Cas shared a lot of those characteristics. He saw both of them as brothers, family less by blood but more by unity, just like he saw Charlie as a silly sister. Dean of course... well, he was family, but in a different way.

The hours lazed by as everyone replenished their strength, and Cas was content to sit and wait for everyone to feel better again. He didn't have to wait long though for Dean's shadow-tinged consciousness to seek him out again. Cas simply sent a trickle of thought down his way, and after a minute of nothing, Dean was emerging from the door that hung ajar at the edge of the garden.

Gadreel saw him and stood stiffly, his eyes focused firmly on the ground as he walked past Dean wordlessly and returned to the gloomy confines of the bunker. Dean still felt a twinge of distrust for the angel, but he wasn't nearly as concerned about the man as he was when they had left to go find Abaddon.

Dean crossed the soft earth of the garden and sat down next to his angel, leaning on one arm and gazing up at Cas with a smile in his eyes. Cas intentionally avoided his gaze, knowing Dean was about to say something and if he looked now, it would ruin whatever his comment would be.

“Y'know, you're really cute sitting out here, talkin' to all of your animal friends.” Dean smiled as his words drew the seraph's eyes to him, the irresistible blue making his breath catch subconsciously.

“You are the only being I have ever met that would call a warrior of Heaven cute in any circumstance.” Cas answered, his smile belying his gratitude for the compliment.

“And you're the only warrior of Heaven I'd ever call cute.” Dean retorted as he leaned toward Cas, who at that moment decided to lay down on the cool, slightly damp ground. “And now you're gonna get all covered in bugs, and we'll have to wash your clothes multiple times to get the dirt stains out.”

“I'll just ask the bugs to crawl off of me when I want to get up. And these are _your_ clothes, Dean. My coat and suit are still hanging in the closet in our room.”

Dean smiled at that. _Our room_. It sounded nice, especially coming from Cas. After the rest of the sentence processed though, he frowned with mock anger. “Then you should _definitely_ get up because if _my_ clothes get stained, I'm gonna make you hand-wash 'em.”

“ _That_ would be a spectacle.” Cas answered. “One _I'd_ definitely like to witness.”

“If you don't get up, you will.” Dean's face was so close to Cas's, one twist of his neck could make their noses brush against each other. His arm came up and over Cas's body slowly, like a cat getting ready to pounce, but just as he was about to snap it down and pin the angel under him, Castiel disappeared and he ended up almost face-planting into the dirt.

“You've gotten slower.” The angel's voice sounded behind Dean, who turned over to see his boyfriend leaning against a tree.

“You're gonna have to show me how to do that.” Dean said. “I've got wings now, right? Teach me to fly, Big Bird.”

 

A half hour later and after a spontaneous trip to Northern Germany, Dean could successfully teleport from place to place with Cas's help. He thought he had the hang of it the first time Cas explained it to him, but when he tried it on his own he found himself in Europe instead of at the other end of the garden. He was learning quick, though, and it made the seraph adore him even more. It wore Dean out, and after a while he was barely capable of walking from place to place, let alone teleportation, and his angelic boyfriend carried him down to the living room to have some quiet time before the others woke up.

They were watching a movie when a bleary-eyed, slightly stiff Sam, muttering something about coffee and tequila. His hair was a literal nightmare and his face showed is extreme discomfort from the hard fight and the exhaustive car ride, but his voice was jovial as he greeted his brother and the angel and sat down to watch whatever cheesy show they'd happened to turn on.

Charlie wandered in a half hour later, much the same as Sam had done before, although instead of asking for spiked coffee, she grumbled something about a lap-dance from some pretty blond she and Dean had hit on on their way to California, what seemed like an eternity ago. Normally he would have laughed and said something equally erotic and entirely inappropriate back, but with Cas's head in his lap, he didn't feel the need to. With Cas's head in his lap, he felt whole.

Their relaxation time wasted well into the day and the following night, a brief but rewarding time to be able to do absolutely _nothing_ but just be around each other and enjoy their respective personalities. They played hide-and-go-seek throughout the bunker, but after an hour of Charlie searching for someone in its vast expanse and finding none of them, they called it quits.

“Besides,” Cas had bragged. “I'd be able to find you all immediately anyway. I can sense where you are.”

The two who needed sleep returned to their beds deep in the night, taking naps more than actually sleeping. But that rest period didn't last long when Life suddenly dropped in from nowhere on Dean and Cas while they were watching TV and cuddling, the literal definition of “Netflix and Chill”.

“Michael and Lucifer tell me that Behemoth has died. They told me how, but I want to hear the story recounted from the four of you.” His eyes were dark and petrifying, his posture stiff and statuesque. Despite looking like a nineteen year-old, anyone in his vicinity could tell that he was unimaginably old and terrifyingly powerful.

Dean woke up Sam and Charlie and brought them into the living room, where they all proceeded to tell the story individually. When they finished, Life looked less angry and more fascinated... by Dean, of all people.

“Dean, you must listen to me,” he said. “Only an angel could have survived the blast that Behemoth's power created. From what it sounds like, Castiel and Gabriel saved these two,” he waved a hand at Sam and Charlie as he spoke “but no one was there to guard you. You must be, technically, an angel now. And I think we can use that to our advantage.”

“How?” Dean and Cas asked simultaneously. “How can one more angel be any good in the fight against this thing? Especially when the biggest angel in existence just died?” Dean asked.

“Because you're more capable than Behemoth.” Came the response. “You're worth more.”

“What, what does that even mean?” Dean's face scrunched up in confusion and his head shook slightly. “ _Worth_ more, what?”  
“Tomorrow, go to the place where you killed Death. I'll show you what I mean then.”

 


	46. Chapter 46

The night passed slow without the need for sleep, but the morning eventually came and they all decided to hop into the impala together and drive, instead of just having the two angels zap them there. They had found that the four of them had great synergy together, and their car rides were never boring. Even when they were silent and sleepy, the silence wasn't awkward. It was peaceful.

They arrived at the place shortly before dark, taking longer to get there than normal. They felt pressure to get there, of course, but why try? Why not make the day fun instead of strictly business?

The building that Death had died in was nothing left but a pile of ash and dust, as was everything the Darkness touched. The field was bare of grass and trees, the forest around was null and the world was colored in shades of gray. It was the typical scenery that followed Rowena, made all the more desolate from being the first point of contact with the Darkness and this universe.

There was one exception to the square mile of flattened land that, under normal circumstances would look normal, but now seemed so out of place it caused an OCD spike in Charlie's artistic mind. It was a giant oak tree, green and fertile, growing right out of the same pot-hole that the Impala's tire got stuck in so long ago. Easily fifty feet tall and at least half as wide, it looked like it had been there for centuries.

On its lowest branch sat a dark-haired, fair-skinned twenty-year-old wearing a white hoodie and fashionably dark jeans. He seemed bored and slightly agitated, but then again, he always did.

As the four climbed out of the car, Life jumped down from the branch and leaned against his tree, waiting for them to approach. Once they were within speaking range, he said “I imagined you guys would get here earlier, not at dusk.”

“We had some errands we had to run.” Dean's clipped tone shot back. “What did you want to show us?”

“I didn't want to _show_ you anything, Dean.” Life answered as he reached into the pocket of his jeans. “I wanted to _give_ you something.” From the denim depths he fished out a ring – a small, silver thing with a great white gem resting on the top. Death's source of power.

Life extended his hand with the ring on his palm toward Dean, who instinctually backed away from it, shaking his head and looking at the jewelry like it was a viper.

“I'm not takin' that thing. I've worn it once before, and there is _no way_ you're gonna make me put it back on.” The other three gave him confused looks, but Life didn't budge.

“Dean, the ring is yours. You're the only other person besides Death to ever wear it. And now that he's gone, it won't affect you like it did before.”

“That thing is not _mine_. I'm not gonna claim it. Ever. Even if Death is dead and all of its magic is lost.”

“Its magic isn't lost. It's dormant.” Life answered. “Waiting for the person's finger that wore it last. Take the damn thing, Dean.”

“Why don't _you_ wear it?” Dean asked, suddenly angry. “He was _your_ brother. And besides, _why_ would I _ever_ take that thing? I've been Death for a day. I don't wanna do it again.”

Life recoiled, but he didn't look convinced. “Fine. I'll take on the responsibility... for now. But if you want to kill Rowena and stop the Darkness, this is the only way.” He slipped the circlet of metal onto his left index finger, and then he was gone.

The car ride home was gloomy and silent as everyone brooded over what Life meant and what his actions implied. What would happen if Dean took the ring? Why was this the only way to kill the Darkness? Why was _Dean_ the one that had to do it?

 

God sat anxiously on his couch as he waited for Life to appear. Way later than either had intended, he materialized in Chuck's living room, wearing his brother's ring and a thoughtful look on his face.

“How'd it go?” God asked. “He didn't take it. Why not?”

“You're _God_. Shouldn't you already know?”

“My foresight isn't what it used to be.”

Life rolled his eyes. “He doesn't want to take the ring, nor does he want to use the First Blade again. He's a tough nut to crack, but he's getting there. I wouldn't give it more than a week and he'll be ready. What about the minor gods? Are they ready yet?”  
“Horus, Poseidon, Jupiter, Quetzalcoatl, and Odin have all confirmed that their pantheons are ready and are headed toward the area now. Some of the other, smaller ones are still gathering, but we should be fine without them.”

“I thought I saw Thor in that town.” Life said thoughtfully. “This is good. The board is almost set. The trap's laid. All we have to do is get her to walk into it.”

“That shouldn't be too hard.” Chuck answered. “Once she can find me, she'll come running. What better way to rule the world then to kill God, right?”

 

 


	47. Chapter 47

Late that night, hours after they got back to the bunker, Charlie was sitting in her room listening to music and trying not to sleep through the Dungeons and Dragons game she was playing online. It was exhausting work and more often then not she was unconscious on her turn. She jerked upright, though, when a foreign weight pressed down on the edge of her bed and the shape of a woman appeared on the edge of her view.

Love was sitting there, eyebrow quirked up, watching the mortal fade in and out of consciousness. It startled Charlie half to death, but after her brain reasserted control over her body, she calmed down.

“Love, what're you doing here?” She asked, suddenly wide awake. “It's like two in the morning.”

“Time's a figment of your imagination, dear.” Love answered. “And I'm here to see you.” She patted Charlie's leg, still under the blanket to fight off the chill night air. “Come to make sure you're okay. It's been a wild week for you, wanted to make sure you're handlin' it well.”

Charlie's thoughts whirred behind her eyes at a million miles a second. Here was some unbelievably powerful, and  _ hot _ , super-goddess sitting on the edge of her bed. A prehistoric deity who's power transcended conscious thought and mortal imagination, and she was worried about  _ Charlie _ ? The queen of the universe was concerned about a lonely red-head that was in the middle of a D&D game? Why?

“I'm fine.” She answered, suddenly self-conscious. “It's been weird, but  I think I'm okay.” She shrugged and Love smiled, her brilliant white teeth in stark contrast to her dark skin.

“That's good to hear. Real good.” Love said. Suddenly, her focus changed and she looked at the door to the hall. “There's another angel here besides that silly Castiel, isn't there?”

Charlie's brow furrowed and she glanced at the door too. “Yeah. One that the boys had a fight with like a year or two ago. Why?”

Love clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Looks like Gabriel's got some competition.” When Charlie pressured her to elaborate, she remained tight-lipped.

They talked for a little while longer about random subjects, but Charlie was having trouble staying awake, and finally Love got up to leave. She stood, smiled, and gently kissed Charlie on the forehead, making her motives obvious.

“Sleep well, starshine. I'll see you soon.” Love's alto voice was the last thing Charlie heard as her consciousness fled from her.

 

Bright and early the next morning, Sam was up in the  main room ready to go for a run. He was heading toward the door when he heard a noise behind him;  o ut of curiosity, he turned to see who it was and was surprised to see Gadreel standing there, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“Gadreel.” Sam said. He wasn't entirely comfortable around the sentinel, and he didn't quite know why. Maybe it was because he'd forcibly possessed Sam once before. “Good morning.”

The angel looked around as if he was oblivious to the fact that it was 8 A.M. and he was trying to find some reference to prove Sam's accuracy. Noting the clock on the wall, he turned back to the man and replied with a stiff “good morning” before turning away awkwardly.

Sam watched him turn and head toward the kitchen, more than a little curious about the angel. He wasn't really  _ angry  _ at him anymore, but nor was he exactly content in his presence, either. Gadreel was like Gabriel in that sense, but for different reasons. With Gabriel, Sam didn't know if the current moment would be his last on behalf of the archangel's constant tricks. With Gadreel it was more because he was like a living statue. Completely unreadable, never revealing anything about himself. Always serving, always obedient, always carefully watching. Always a sentinel.

And that, to Sam, was unfortunate. He felt a connection to Gadreel that he didn't really feel with anyone else. Gabriel, Cas, Dean, Charlie, none of them had been inside him before (well... at least in Gadreel's sense of the word. Gabriel...). None of them had ever been that close. Sure, Dean was his brother and he told Dean  _ a lot _ , but Dean didn't have the power to feel Sam's thoughts and emotions as his own. He didn't know what being  _ Sam  _ felt like. Gadreel did.

It was beyond that, though. Sam felt like he and Gadreel were similar in more ways then occasionally sharing the same body. They both felt like disappointments. They had both fallen prey to Lucifer, in some form or another. They were kindred spirits in their suffering, and Sam could see that it molded them into similar beings. But if Gadreel was never open, what good could ever come from that connection? What friendship, what brotherhood, could ever develop from a living statue and a curious bystander if one wasn't receptive?

He stopped contemplating the weary seraph in his kitchen and went on his run, letting the exercise clear his head. Little did he know however, that Gadreel felt much the same as he did, albeit a little different.

The moment he saw Sam, his human heart ran at a thousand thunderous beats a second.  Fear, anxiety, embarrassment, remorse, desire... they all coursed through him like tsunamis converging on his grace, each one doing as much damage as the one before. He didn't know how to handle such raw power, didn't know what to do with all of this... feeling. Then Sam said “good morning” and Gadreel nearly ran, but he held his ground and did his best to speak, sounding more like a motorized drone than the sentry to the Garden of Eden. Before the conversation could develop into an untameable beast, he turned on his heel and left the room, desperate to get away from his thoughts.

Sam was an enigma to Gadreel. He'd been inside of the man and he admired many things about him. His charisma, his generosity, his physique. Sam had a lot to offer, and Gadreel wanted to take part in that, but how could he? He was estranged from the mortal, by the past, by his wants. Sam didn't deserve such petty manipulation and weakness in his close circle of friends. And besides, he had an archangel on his shoulder. At Sam's word, Gabriel would end Gadreel without thought or mercy, if only Gadreel behaved the wrong way. What could he do, to show his gratitude to the Winchesters for their hospitality, but also remain aloof and not encumber their lives any further? How could he help, but not  take upon himself more than he was given ? How could he say “thank you” without “I love you” involved?  He had some ideas, but he was too afraid to act on them. He was a soldier, after all, and soldiers were supposed to obey, weren't they? The only issue with that was that this particular soldier didn't have any orders to follow.

He slid into the kitchen, boredly wandering around and looking for something to do. Some way to show Sam, to show Dean, and Cas, and Gabriel, that he was grateful for them. That he was useful somehow, even when it seemed like he would be their burden until his inevitable,  _ final _ , death. But there was nothing. There was nothing he could do that someone else couldn't do better, nothing that he was good at that someone else wasn't  _ perfect _ at. He wasn't the most powerful angel in the world – even Cas was stronger than he, and then there were the Archangels that seemed ever-present and brooding over the Winchesters. Especially Gabriel. Gadreel didn't hate his older brother, but did feel enormous jealousy toward him. He had strength. He had power. He had Sam, and through him he had Dean and Castiel as well. Gabriel had everything Gadreel wanted. He had somewhere he could call home.

But why? Why did Gabriel have all of the inter-personal relations that Gadreel wanted? The seraph sat in the kitchen and pondered for a long time until he came to two conclusions. One; it was because Gabriel was an archangel and that made him better, and two; because he did more than just wait for orders. He “seized the initiative”, or at least that's what Gadreel  _ thought  _ Metatron had called it.

_ That cannot be overly difficult, _ Gadreel thought to himself.  _ But how will I know if I am well-received? How will I know that I am doing the right thing?  _

He heard the heavy front door shut with a sonorous  _ boom  _ and it shook him from his contemplation. Sam was back, and now was the time to act. But what to do? How could Gadreel approach Sam without being overbearing?

He quelled his fears and opened the door to the kitchen, just in time to stop Sam from drifting into the hallway and further toward his room. Seeing the man made Gadreel's stomach shrivel up on itself, and his vessel's heart did things that he didn't know how to respond to. He found that if he looked at the ground instead of at the godlike body and soul before him, he could focus on actually forming words instead of silently staring into space.

“Sam.” Gadreel said simply. It was forthright and sounded more blunt than he had planned it, but it got his attention. Time would tell if that would be a good thing.

At Sam's permission, he continued speaking. “I wish to be able to help you and your brother. I believe I am rested enough to be of service now, and I would like the opportunity to repay you for your kindness.”

This made Sam pause and lean against the door in thought. After a couple seconds of esteem-destroying silence in which Gadreel thought he might just go  _ sep _ _ puku  _ himself again, Sam spoke. “Well we haven't gone on any regular cases in a while. Maybe we could find something close by and you'd be able to help us. I know Dean's been itching to blow something up with his angel powers. You and Cas could always show him how.”

Gadreel brightened and looked up into Sam's face. Finally, something he could  _ do _ . “I would enjoy that immensely.”

Before Sam left, he clapped the angel on his shoulder and smiled at him. “I think I would too.”

 


	48. Chapter 48

Sam walked away from the angel, pleasantly surprised at the turn of his demeanor. He passed Cas and Dean's room on the way to his, stopping to put his ear up to the door as he did so. He could hear the faint murmur of a newscast playing, along with the lower undertones of the two lovers' voices. He smiled to himself, happy on behalf of his brother, and continued on down the hallway to his own room where he then stripped himself of his sweaty workout clothes and took a shower.

Once clean, he made his way to the library with his laptop, determined to find a case they could all work together on. Any leads they'd had for normal cases had gone cold weeks ago with the Darkness getting stronger and stronger, but he knew some people and hours later, he found them a vampire nest to clean out that was surprisingly close by; in the Oklahoma panhandle. It wouldn't take them more than a day to get there, and vampires were one of the most ideal creatures to let Dean loose on. They secluded themselves far from civilization, so there was little to no risk of any civilians getting hurt, they were easy to dispose of and if Dean couldn't get rid of them with his grace, then Gadreel and Cas could, and there were usually at least a dozen in a nest. Plenty of target practice for his older brother as well.

He went and told Charlie first, who was delighted at the good news. “Finally,” she had said. “Something we can go and do instead of sitting here freezing in this dungeon.” Sam had smiled at that.

After Charlie, he told Gadreel who, although reserved, seemed to perk up at the thought of being put to good use. Sam gave him the run down of a normal vampire nest, but promised to go more in-depth with it once everyone knew.

Next, he went to his brother's room.

“Hey Dean, Cas.” Sam began. “I found us a vampire nest we could go clean out. Charlie, Gadreel, and I are gonna head out in about an hour if you wanna come.”

At first there wasn't a response – just a bunch of banging noises and the sound of something fragile falling over and breaking. Then the door opened, and Dean's perky face appeared in the crack, smiling up at his younger brother.

Sam's eyebrow arched upward as he saw that Dean obviously didn't have a shirt on, and from the skin he could see, he didn't have pants on either. Before he allowed his mind to wander down paths too dark for him to come back from, he said “Vampire nest, down in Oklahoma if the two of you aren't... busy.” As his sentence drew to a close, he looked pointedly down the hallway toward the door to the command center.

“What, me and Cas? Nah man, we're totally ready to go!” He turned into the room again, momentarily disappearing from view. “Right babe?” His voice reached Sam's ears, followed closely by an affirmative noise from the angel hidden inside. He poked his head through the door again, and said “We'll be out in about ten minutes or so.”

“We were planning on driving to the spot in about an hour. You two can always just meet us there once you're finished.” Sam grimaced and walked away, making a mental checklist of things he needed to get in order to be ready. _Machete, flashlights, extra batteries, lock-picks..._

 

The hour came, but the two still weren't ready. Sam, not wanting to intrude on their hobbies any more than the bare minimum amount, decided to just text Dean the coordinates and wait for them to arrive. At least that way, they'd have more time to expend all of their aphrodisia.

So it was that he was in the driver's seat of the impala, with Charlie sitting next to him in the front passenger, and Gadreel staring quietly out of the window behind her. Sam had checked and double-checked their tools and various provisions that they'd need, going about the task with practiced ease, all the while telling an interested Charlie and a brooding angel the ins and outs of a vampire-nest cleanse. Now, with all of their necessities in the trunk, they drove off down the beaten-up highway that granted the bunker access to the rest of the world.

About half way through their drive, Sam got a call from the hunter that had originally given him the information about the case – some friend of Garth's named Rose that seemed about as out of place in the south as Dean would on Mars. She called to tell him that the vampire nest had heard news that there were hunters in the area, and more on the way, and had high-tailed it out of the town she was in.

“The last time anyone had seen them, they were headed north-east, out of the panhandle. By now, they might be as far away as Buffalo.” Her soft, melodic voice came over the line, breaking occasionally as one of them lost signal. “Who knows, that might just work to your advantage. They don't know which way my 'hunter backup' was supposed to come from, and if you can meet them somewhere it _could_ catch them off guard.”

“Great.” Sam muttered back. “Do we know where they might land? Do they have any places they think might be safe in the area?”

“Buffalo, generally.” Even without her in front of him, Sam could tell she was nodding to herself by the sound of her voice. “It's a small town, small enough so that they can keep an eye on the perimeter, shepherd the inhabitants around like livestock, and prevent them from leaving or telling anyone about it. We've tried getting all of the vamps out before, but some of the townspeople have developed Stockholm Syndrome for them or something. The entire place is just _nuts_.”

Sam's eyes widened in surprise. “So Buffalo's they're “secret” getaway? Going to a place that they've been in for God knows how long, boxing themselves in?” He chuckled and looked at Gadreel in the rear view mirror. “They don't seem all that smart.”

“Yeah, well, what they lack in brains they make up for in numbers. And strength. We've heard rumors that the one that's turned them all is somewhere in Buffalo too, which might make your job more like hell than it already is.”

Sam glanced back at the angel again, then replied. “I'm not too concerned about how strong they are. We've got some tricks up our sleeves and tools we could use to give'em a run for their money.”

An interminable time later, the impala came to a stop at the local diner in their destination town – Buffalo. It was close to dinner time and Charlie and Sam were both starving, so they had decided to get some food before they started any casework. None of them noticed however, that the streets were entirely deserted, and all of the curtains and blinds that covered the windows of the buildings within eyesight were drawn tight to shut out the setting sun.

After Charlie called Dean to alert them of where the trio was, they headed inside. As soon as Gadreel crossed the threshold of the door, he tensed and looked around restlessly, but followed Sam and Charlie to a booth and sat down uncomfortably.

Sam noted the distrust in his eyes as he scanned the room uneasily, and as he leaned forward he asked in a low voice “Something wrong, man? You look like a rabbit that got lost in a wolf den.”

Mimicking his posture, Gadreel whispered back “none of the people in here are human. Something is off about them. Their souls are tainted and their bodies smell... strange.”

Above the table, Sam was impassive and seemed unaffected by the news. Below the table, his fingers grazed the handle of the machete that was strapped to his muscular calf. He and Charlie glanced around the room too, casually glancing at the people that sat around them, whispering in hushed voices under dimmed lamps, completely unlike any normal diner setting.

“We should–” Sam started, but before he could finish his sentence, a tall, frail-looking old woman bent nearly double and wearing a greasy apron with the name _Charlotte_ scratched into a name tag limped up to their table and gave them a toothless smile. Her eyes were beady black and ice cold, like someone had stabbed two chunks of obsidian into her sockets.

“What can I get for the three o'you kids this fine evenin'?” She practically gummed the words out, her teeth were in such bad shape. “We got a special on the pumpkin pie, thanks to the season. And the daily special is the three-bean soup with beets and potata's, and there's a breakfast for dinner special...” And everything the lady said seemed to be a “special” of some sort.

“I don't think we're quite ready to order yet.” Sam answered politely. “We've got a couple friends in the bathroom we were gonna wait for.”

The corner of her mouth twitched – sharply up, then stoically down. “Not a problem.” Her fake smile plastered across her face once more, looking more like a taxidermist’s nightmare than a waitress's customer service grin. “S'there anythin' you'd like to drink while ya wait?”

“Just a couple glasses of water would be fine.” Sam smiled up at her, then turned to look at Charlie instead. Something about Charlotte was just unnerving.

“Suitcha self. Just don't forget about that beer special I told you 'bout.” She called as she bumbled away, writing something down on her notepad.

“Cas and Dean need to get here now.” Sam said. Before he had even finished his sentence, Charlie had her phone out and was sending them an incognito text. _Get here. Now_.

“Was she not human either?” Sam muttered to Gadreel. They were seated across from each other on the low-standing booth seats, with Gadreel trapping Charlie into the wall. The angel nodded that no, she was definitely not, and Sam took the information with a grain of salt. At least he was right, but now that he knew he was, what kind of creature was she? Was she one of the vampires that ran the place? Or was she another monster that had found shelter with the bloodsuckers? She could be a siren, a wraith, a werewolf, a pishtaco... anything.

Before long, she came back with a tray with five tall glasses of water on it – three for them, two for their friends she hadn't yet seen. “They still in the bathroom?” She asked Sam as she set the waters on the table.

“We've been traveling for a while. They ate some pretty weird stuff in Topeka and now I think they're paying for it.”

His words made her chuckle; it was more of a retching sound really, but it still could be described as a laugh... loosely. “Those damn city-folk, I tell ya. Always concocting the nastiest plates'a food a man can think of.” She pulled out her notepad and scribbled something down again before putting back into the depths of her pocket. “I can get ya some o'that pumpkin pie to tie you over while you're waitin' if you want.” She smiled at Sam with an almost hungry expression, but he never got the chance to answer.

“Yeah, I'd love some pie! Might as well bring out the whole thing!” As Dean's voice swept over Sam, the tension in his neck abated and he sighed unconsciously. From the direction of the bathroom, Dean and Cas were walking toward them with light steps and smiling faces, but their speed was a little faster than “hungry”.

“About damn time you guys.” Sam glared at his brother. “I was about to send Zeke in to make sure you didn't get lost or something.” He used Gadreel's alias almost subconsciously – it just fit him. It was the name they all first new him under, and it was a name they could use again.

Cas squinted at him, but Dean caught on to what Sam was alluding to and smiled sheepishly under the gaze of the waitress. “Long road, bad food.” As he sat down, he continued “but I know we won't have those problems _here_. Now what were you sayin' about that pie?”

Sam could tell that Dean and Cas could tell that something was up with their surroundings too. Dean was tense and his hand kept dropping down to scratch at his left calf, presumably where he'd hidden his own machete in case he couldn't quite figure out how to nuke the vampires they came across. And Cas, who would normally be making conversation with Gadreel and Charlie, just sat and stared off into space, occasionally glancing up at random passers by.

Charlotte laughed out loud at something Dean had said, and then turned and walked away, muttering something about city-slickers and pie. As her distance increased from them though, his facade dropped and he looked at Sam in alarm.

“Sam, literally everyone in here's a _vampire_!” His eyes were wide in concern and his face was scrunched up in what looked like irritation.

“How can you tell? I mean we knew they weren't human thanks to Gadreel, but he couldn't tell what they were.” Sam muttered back.

“You're forgetting that _I've been a vampire before_.” Dean elbowed him sharply as the other three looked on. The memories of Dean's more outlandish monster transformations were still vivid in both of their minds.

Sam glared down at Dean's elbow and hissed “Then what do we do, Dean? If everyone in here's a vamp, how're we gonna take them all down?”

“You could call Gabriel.” Dean answered. On the other side of the table, Gadreel tensed and glanced out toward the rest of the diner, past Cas who was seated in a chair he'd dragged over from an empty table. “I'm sure he could just blow the place up no problem.”

“Gabe's in Iran right now trying to convince the Zoroastrian gods to help Life. He's super busy and I'm not gonna bother him because we're dumb enough to walk right into a vampire nest that could cover the entire town.”

Charlotte came back with a freshly baked pumpkin pie in hand, but that welcoming sight was completely overshadowed by the large, stocky African-American man that followed her impassively. He was taller than Sam and even his smallest muscles were twice as large, but he carried himself with the grace and natural composure of a scholar.

Charlotte nodded toward them and muttered something to the giant of a man standing behind her, then completely passed their table by without so much as a glance which _devastated_ Dean because... well because _pie._

The man stopped at their table next to Castiel's chair, who promptly scooted away from him either out of intimidation or respectability. He glanced down at the angel, but didn't in any other way acknowledge him, and said “I have been informed by your waitress that you have been causing _quite_ the uproar out here.” His voice was deep and fluid. It sounded almost like Uriel's did before Cas had ended him years ago, but darker. “If you can't keep the peace, I'm afraid I will have to escort you out.”

Charlie rubbed her eye, then cast him a quizzical glance. “What “uproar”?” We haven't done anything but sit here since we got here.”

His head snapped in her direction with birdlike speed and accuracy, and his eyes bored into her for a couple of seconds before he responded. “Maybe you should let the _men_ talk, little girl. People with _actual_ intelligence.”

It was Sam's turn to get defensive. “Hey, don't talk to her like that. She's incredibly smart and _way_ nicer than you.”

“Don't talk to her like that? Or what, boy? What will you do?” The diner was now silent and watching the unnecessary confrontation, listening and staring as the events unfolded.

Cas stood up from his chair and turned to face the man. Although he was a full foot shorter, his stern gaze and fierce features gave the man pause. “ _He_ doesn't have to do anything. We know what you are. And we're _more_ than capable of dealing with you.”

The man laughed and brushed off his expensive-looking coat. It was obvious he was an important individual in the town; if not the leader of Buffalo itself, at least the boss of the diner. “There are five of you and at least fifty of us alone in this building at any given moment, along with another eleven hundred outside, who can be ready at a moment's notice. How would you _possibly_ be able to do anything to me?”

Dean snorted and muttered, more to himself than anyone else, “shouldn't have asked that,” right before Cas could internalize what he was saying.

The angel shoved his palm out toward the vampire, sending him careening away with the force of his grace. The vampire's teeth sprouted in anger, but there was no way he was going to get near Cas, especially with the other five in tow.

At the first sign of contention, the diner erupted into chaos. Chairs were overturned, booths were emptied, and any available walking space was taken up by the horde of vampires that surrounded them. Cas and Gadreel blocked access to Dean, Sam, and Charlie from the front, making an angelic wall of smiting hands and deadly grace, but they knew the other three couldn't just sit there. Of course, Sam realized this before the fighting even began.

He had, quite simply, picked up the table in front of them and _threw_ it through the window they were seated next to. He scared the daylights out of Charlie, but before she could comprehend exactly _why_ he had disposed of their eating space, he was picking her up and setting her down on the other side of the opening he'd made, then following right behind her.

The noise of the shattering window had alerted the houses and shops that lined the block they were on of their plight, and now there were people opening windows and doors to see what was going on. Even to them this didn't seem like your typical Friday-night bar fight. Something _extra_ was happening. Dean and Gadreel had made it through the window, but as Cas was climbing through, four or five pairs of hands clasped onto his back leg and his extended arm, dragging him back into the dimly-lit bar.

“Cas!” Dean called out more in surprise then an expectation for an answer. The window was all but ignored now, as the vampires inside focused on their prey, and Dean made the rash decision to try to _reenter_ the building but Sam wouldn't let him.

“Dean, we've got bigger things to worry about.” Sam nodded down the long road where people were now coming out of their houses to explore the tumult happening at the restaurant. He tried to tug his older brother away, but trying to move Dean was like trying to drag a mountain with a rope made of dental floss.

“You guys can take care of yourselves. Damn it Sam you alone have been doin' this for _decades_! Get yourselves somewhere safe and Cas and I'll find you when were in the clear!” He shoved Sam roughly off of him as he hurdled the low wall back into the building, intent on finding the wayward angel.

Once inside, he forgot about his brother entirely. Sam could take care of himself. Even if he couldn't, Gadreel was there and could carry them to safety if need be. And he had Charlie, who even though didn't look like much, was an absolute _juggernaut_ with her little short-sword from Oz and a damn-near expert shot with a gun. Sam would be fine.

But where had they dragged Cas?

The dining hall was now empty of anything living. Bodies littered the place – some were beheaded somehow, others were so full of glass from the windows that they looked like pincushions, and still more appeared completely untouched except for the smoking holes where their eyes had been.

It didn't take long for him to find where they were with his angel. They were in the kitchen, the last five vamps hovering over Cas with butcher knives, one holding a pot of scalding hot water and trying to dump it on the angel's head. Cas sputtered and gasped as the water entered his lungs, but the heat didn't harm his vessel.

None of them saw Dean enter the room, nor heard the door shut behind him. That included Cas – who, after he was done being showered by a vampire, flung the monster head-long into the door Dean was standing in front of, knocking them both through the frail wood.

At his sign of retaliation, the other four went to work, stabbing at him with useless steel knives and a meat fork. They bloodied him up pretty badly within the minute that Dean had to take to extract himself from the unconscious vampire Cas had unknowingly thrown into him, but then he was on them and they had a bigger issue to worry about than the bloody angel laying on the floor.

He came at them like a hurricane, throwing them all off of Cas at once, slamming one into the massive oven and the other three into some cabinetry. They got back up quickly, but not before Dean could move Cas out of the way where he couldn't get injured again.

“Come at me you sons of bitches.” Dean growled low in his throat. He felt his hand clasp around the hilt of a blade even though he didn't remember grabbing one or taking the one off of his leg.

As the first two vampires rushed him, he stepped forward and his vision went red.

 


	49. Chapter 49

Great. _Just great_.

Cas was dragged away into some miserable corner of a bar, probably getting torn apart by bloodsuckers. Dean had charged headlong in after him, uncaring about the consequences. And now there were _dozens_ of what Sam could only imagine were _all_ vampires coming toward him in curiosity. It was only a matter of time before one of them caught a whiff of him or Charlie and their lives would pretty much end.

“Let's uh...” Sam looked around for some sort of escape route, deciding on the shadowy alley that seemed vacant as the safest bet. “Let's go. Dean and Cas will be okay.” He quickly wrestled his machete out of the ankle brace he had it in and, with it in hand, proceeded down the backstreet with his flashlight probing every corner of the shadows. Charlie followed directly after him, and Gadreel covered their rear.

Some of the residents could be heard talking about the strange happenings at the bar. Some that were in it and had managed to get out were frantically shouting to their neighbors, with one word beings repeated over and over – _humans_. It wouldn't be long before they were all searching the town for at least the three of them; all five if Dean and Cas could get out alive.

Sure enough, the first few silhouettes came popping into view just as they were making it to the corner. As they were spotted, the vampires caught their scent and called to one another with shouts of “there they are!” and “found'em!”. _So much for an intelligent and safe getaway_. Sam thought to himself.

“They are following us.” Gadreel said from the back of the narrow line. “Shall we turn and face them?”

“No.” Sam answered without turning around. “No, we definitely shouldn't.”

“What are we gonna do then?” Charlie asked.

“We're gonna run.” He waited a second longer, then added “...Now.” And took off into a dead sprint, catching the other two off guard.

They caught up to him and together rushed off toward anywhere that could be considered safe – which ironically was pretty much nowhere. It took Sam a second to realize,

_There was only one set of footsteps following him._

He glanced behind him as he turned the corner of a building to see Charlie huffing red and wide-eyed behind him, but Gadreel was a good fifty yards back, his pace nothing equivalent to theirs. Unfortunately, even though he was the most powerful one of the three, he was also the slowest runner.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, catching Charlie as she almost catapulted herself over his still-outstretched leg and turned to watch as the first of the vampires caught up to Gadreel. The seraph was still chugging along, but the vampire was smaller and ever-so-slightly quicker, and before long Gadreel had to stop entirely to get her off of his arm. Of course, that only served to let the others catch up to him.

Without a second thought, Sam went charging back through the night to the aid of his friend. Even an angel would have trouble fending off _that_ many vampires, and Gadreel wasn't at full strength yet. Being kicked out of heaven and then _dying_ really took a lot out of him, and he hadn't really finished the healing process. Sam, of course, knew all of this and was determined to not let him die – _again_.

Before he could get farther then twenty feet, though, a body came out of the shadows on his right and slammed into him, sending him sprawling on the rough pavement of the road and momentarily knocking him unconscious. A blinding white light followed, and he lost all feeling of time or space and simply drifted inside of himself for an undetermined amount of time.

When he came to, it was to Gadreel's calloused hands hoisting him to his feet, his face bleeding from a cut on his cheek and his shoulder bent at an awkward angle, but otherwise okay. The mass of ghoulish monsters that had heretofore surrounded him were all spreadeagled on the ground, none dead but all unconscious. The one that had knocked Sam off his feet was lying in a pool of its own blood, his head missing and Charlie, pale and wide-eyed and staring awe-struck at the angel, standing behind the corpse.

He got to his feet as the dazed vampires slowly picked themselves back together, then the three of them set off again. He was trying to lead them in a round-a-bout way in a big circle, large enough to confuse and slow down the residents but not enough to mess with their own heads. Ultimately, he was trying to get back to the car, knowing that it was probably their only way to get out of the town alive without angelic teleportation. Besides that point, a vampire that was crushed under a car tire wasn't a vampire that could chase them.

Gadreel started lagging behind them again, but not enough to actually have any negative side-effects this time. They made it to the car and threw the doors open, all three of them looking around wildly as the seemingly unending horde of monsters came toward them. Finally, they managed to all get into the car, but then the _damnedest_ thing happened.

 _The car wouldn't start_.

The battery had been kind of shorting out for weeks, but it had never really affected anything. But of _course,_ now when they were in a life-or-death situation, it decided to take a day off. And of _course_ , Gadreel was there to save the day.

The angel, who had subconsciously taken the front seat, slapped the dashboard as hard as he could, his had glowing white and powerful as it came down. The second his skin touched the worn plastic, the battery received a massive power surge and the engine roared to life, Gadreel's grace pumping energy into it like a portable power-plant. Sam wasted no time in putting the car into gear and running over the first three vampires that were foolish enough to charge a _moving vehicle_ because they were crazed by the smell of blood. The rest had enough sense to get the hell out of the way, but once they had an open opportunity to get at them through the windows, they swarmed the car like a picturesque scene from some cliche zombie movie, hacking at the windows with nothing but claws and elbows.

The back windshield was the first to shatter under the beating fists and occasional baseball bat, but by then the car was moving and the only unfortunate vampire that was able to keep a hold on the seat that he'd grabbed onto was shot straight in the face by Charlie's pistol. Dean would throw a _massive_ bitch-fit about the blood stains on the interior later.

At the sound of the gunshot, the bloodthirsty citizens seemed to remember that they were, in fact, human beings (of a sort) instead of wild animals and that _technology_ existed. It wasn't long before they themselves were loading up firearms and shooting at the impala with what Sam would say was probably the worst aim he'd ever encountered.

One of them had a lucky shot, though, and nailed the back left tire, deflating the rubber doughnut in seconds. The impala lurched and jumped on every pebble that littered the ground, but Sam wasn't going to slow down, and _definitely_ wasn't going to stop. Dean would just have to fix it later.

_Dean._

Sam would just have to trust that his brother and Cas could make it out alive. If any of them could, it was that pair together. Both were angels, both were hunters. And hopefully, both were enough.

 


	50. Chapter 50

Together they had gotten rid of the four vampires in the diner, but not after interrogating one to find out which was the leader. It turned out, they had already seen him – it was the giant of a man that had originally started the conflict and gotten their asses in trouble. They heard the impala roar to life when Gadreel super-charged it, and both had tensed in worry when they heard the gunshots. Hearing that the car didn't slow down though, they breathed sighs of relief as their family made it to safety.

They were currently behind the bar, out of notice of any of the fiends that were facing the open road. They were, for now, safe. But that safety wouldn't last forever, and they needed to get somewhere fast.

“Can't you zap us back to the bunker or something?” Dean whispered as he brushed his hands over the various stab wounds the four kitchen vampires had inflicted on him with their cutlery. As his fingers trailed each laceration, the bleeding subsided and the gouges sealed like hungry mouths being fed. He still wasn't used to being able to do anything like that, but in this instance he was glad he could.

“I've used much of my grace just getting out of there before they managed to actually injure me. Either you have to do it, or we run.” Cas muttered back. He pulled his own hand up to meet Dean's, sending an unspoken message to _stop healing me I'm fine_.

Dean swatted his hand away and continued to pour his grace out of his hands. _That don't sound right. 'My grace'._ He thought to himself. _This is just Cas's grace_ _that I'm using. It's not mine._

“Dean we both know that's not true. The power you're wielding is coming from your own soul.” Castiel's beautiful blue eyes were almost black in the shadows of the night, but they were still as piercing as ever.

“I keep forgetting that we can read each other's minds now.” Dean smirked, blushed and looked down. “But it totally is yours. I'm just a _human_.”

“I was human once, too. Does that make _me_ any less of an angel now?” Before Dean could answer him, he continued. “No. And besides, now isn't the time to argue over this. How are we going to get out of here with all of our blood still inside us?”

“I can't zap us places yet and you're too tired to be able to so we're gonna have to get out on foot. Is there some sort of mojo thing that we can do that might mask our scents and footsteps?” Dean asked, his mind instantly going into _fight-flight-or-die_ mode.

Cas snapped and a tiny ripple of air washed over Dean's skin, blanketing him like a gentle breeze. “That'll hide what we smell like, but I can't make us any quieter. Not without a spell. We'll just have to sneak out and hope they don't hear us.” He glanced around the side of the diner at the already almost completely-dispersed crowd of disappointed and hungry vampires.

“Their hunt of the week seems to have been a little sad.” Dean said over his shoulder, the right side of his face smushed against Cas's. He pecked the angel's neck once, then said “C'mon, let's get out of here. If they're all focused on going back home they'll be too busy to notice us.” He laced his fingers in between the seraph's and tugged slightly on them as he started walking away toward the closest edge of town.

They had a hundred yards to go until they were clear of all of the houses and surrounded by nothing but the wide, empty planes of the Central United States. They had a hundred yards to safety and freedom, where they could outrun any vampire on foot and destroy any one wheels. They had a hundred yards until they could call Sam and ask for directions and be with their friends and family in the morning. They had a hundred yards to go, and that's when they got caught.

The same man from the diner, the one that looked strikingly similar to Behemoth, materialized out of the shadows and punched Cas straight in the jaw, knocking him unconscious. Dean jumped and was ready to spring into action, but from the other side of the street, three vampires sprang from nowhere and pinned him to the ground. He struggled and he fought, even managing to dislodge one of them, but eventually they overpowered him and held him there as the Boss walked leisurely over and knelt down next to his face.

“You didn't think you'd escape from me _that_ easily, did you?” His voice was deep and slow and oddly soothing, with a wispy, dreamlike quality to it that lulled Dean into a sense of uneasy peace – like he was being injected with narcotics against his will.

The last two things he heard before he blacked out were Cas groaning in pain, and the black man chuckling humorously.

 


	51. Chapter 51

_Wake up_.

There was nothing but darkness. Sweet, comforting, relaxing shadow that blanketed Dean and kept him warm.

 _Wake up_.

A voice. Neither masculine nor feminine in pitch, and a small light at the far end of his consciousness, a pinprick of cold, hard illumination that threatened to unravel the embrace of the peace around him.

_Dean, wake up._

It grew steadily larger as the voice escalated in volume. The light was bright and painful to look at, glancing off the back of his eye lids and into his sockets like a laser. It needed to go away – it needed to let him sleep.

_DEAN._

He gasped awake with a start, shaking his stiff body as much as he could within his bonds. His head swam with dizziness, but after a moment it cleared and he opened his eyes slowly.

He recognized the inside of the diner, even though it looked far different then when he had last seen it. The vampiric bodies had been removed, the overturned tables and chair put back in their spots. Even the bloodstains were gone, and the furniture that had broken didn't seem to any longer be.

Cas was next to him, sleeping soundly. Despite the obviously dire situation, Dean couldn't help but notice how lovely the angel looked. His face was relaxed and at rest, his body was limp and pliant. His vessel looked less the age of an angel and more that of a man, when he was asleep.

“You're awake?” Another voice said. It wasn't the same one that dragged him out of his slumber – if anything, it sounded like the one that put him into it. Lo and behold, it was; the same man that had caused all of the difficulty of the past twenty-four hours came striding languidly up to him, peering at his face with an emotion akin to curiosity.

“How unusual. Not even angels can fight against the dose of sleep I gave you.” His breath washed hot and dry over Dean's face, smelling faintly of lavender and something more sinister, like blood. Now that he was close enough, Dean could read his name tag too – _Shawn_ was etched into the shiny golden plastic that covered the wooden pin.

“Tell me, Dean, you wouldn't happen to have a deity on your shoulder, would you?” Shawn's steady crimson eyes bored into Dean like drills, but Dean held his ground.

“If angels can't stand up to you, what good would a god do?” Dean had tried for years to break the habit of saying the first thing that crossed his mind.

“Not those silly pagan things that humanity stopped worshiping thousands of years ago. The ones that _actually matter_. God. Life. Love. Death. The four that created the universe and everything therein.”

“Nope.” Dean bluffed. “Don't know what you're talking about.”

Shawn raised an eyebrow. “Of course not.”

He turned away from Dean toward the three vampires that were across the room, looking like they were awaiting orders. He pointed at the one in the middle – a short blond man that looked more like a toad than a human – and wordlessly nodded. The man nodded back and pulled a phone out of his pocket as he turned and headed out of the diner's front door. As he left, Dean caught the beginning words of his conversation;

“Gerald. Have you found the other three–” And then the door shut and blocked him out of Dean's perception.

Cas stirred next to him, inhaling a deep breath and sitting up in much the same way Dean had. He glanced at Dean the second his eyes were open, but when he tried to reach his arm out to him, the thick rope around his hands held Cas in place.

“Enter Castiel, angel of the Lord.” Shawn mocked. “Good morning, child.”

Cas's face pinched into a look of concentration that Dean knew, both from their mental connection and simply knowing his boyfriend, meant that he recognized this fiend in front of them. And sure enough, a split second later the angel said “I recognize you. I saw you. When we were in Purgatory – you were there.”

Dean looked at Cas, puzzled. He had never seen this mook before, even in Purgatory. The only thing he remembered seeing that even looked similar to him was Behemoth.

“ _You_ saw me in Purgatory. Dean never did – neither you nor that vampire would let me lure him in. And _you_ only saw me when you were running from the leviathans. Don't you remember? I flew out of that gorge and chased you for a good hundred miles or so. But you were quick then. Not so much now.”

“I remember.” Cas growled. “I do not, however, remember why not even the leviathan would go near you.”

Shawn laughed. “The answer is simple. They fear me. They are _young_ to me, pretty-bird. They are _weak_.”

“Leviathan and the other archangels were the first living things God and Life ever created. They can't be _young_ to you.” _Unless Life is lying_. Dean vocalized his confusion, but his last thought he kept between himself and Cas.

_He would have no reason to do that._

“Yes, they are the first things they ever birthed _jointly_. I am not an offspring of Life. No, I am half shadow and half light. God is my father, yes, but the _Darkness_ is my maternal figure.” Shawn twisted around to look at them, his large, angry eyes making Dean's skin crawl. “And I see through this ruse of God's. He forgets that he gave me his foresight. I have seen what will happen when this is all said and done. When the two of you take your rightful places, I will take mine.”

Before Dean could decipher Shawn's words, the voice whispered in the back of his head again. _Remember what I told you Dean. It's there. Reach out and take it. Prove him wrong. Prove his fortune-telling wrong_.

He gave Cas a sideways glance and sent a questioning thought over to him, but the angel didn't seem to know what he was going on about. He had no recollection of any voice, which only confused Dean more.

Shawn seemed not to notice either of them, but had walked out of their field of view, to a table behind them that had an array of knives resting on the hardwood surface. He picked up a long, hooked thing that looked like it was designed more for a battlefield than a bistro, and started running the pad of his left index finger along the blade. It was wickedly sharp, but the steel left no marking on his skin, no matter how hard he pressed.

He chuckled softly as he walked back into their peripherals. “That would be,” he said softly as he looked at the gleaming blade, “but there is no inheritance for you. The Darkness will triumph over these petty light-bringers, and as she builds her new kingdom, I will sit on its throne.” He dragged the tip of the sickle-like knife gently across Cas's left jawline, the feather-light touch making a perfect seam in the angel's skin and drawing blood from the sharpness.

 _Take it, Dean. Save yourself. Save_ Cas _. You can do it_.

There was a pull on the edge of Dean's consciousness; a kind of distraction that dragged his focus away from his bleeding boyfriend to a spot that was just out of reach. If he clenched his hands, he could almost feel a _something_ in his palm, like the handle of a blade or the jagged firmness of a sharp rock or piece of glass that he could somehow use to kill this... thing.

Meanwhile, Cas was making small talk, trying to stall for Dean. He had sensed what Dean was thinking, if not the third-party voice in his head, and knew that he was planning something even if Dean didn't yet know it himself.

“What are you, then?” The angel had asked. “If you're older than my brothers and sisters, if you're equally light and dark, what are you?” He questioned as the blade traced down his chest, easily tearing through his clothes and the skin beneath. After all he'd been through, he hardly even noticed the sharp metal. Death, to him, seemed to dull the pain of blood.

“I am the first,” Shawn's voice was a mere whisper now, his face just inches from Castiel's. The amount of intimacy in his demeanor was starting to get weird. “The beginning of Creation. I was born before Life knew what he was capable of.”

“Are you a vampire, like the rest of the people here?” Cas knew that of _course_ he wasn't, but anything to give Dean time.

Shawn chuckled, a rough, coughing noise in the back of his throat. “I am the only one of my kind. My species has no name, no identification. Before I could be named, I was trapped in Purgatory, just like Mother was stuck in the Mark.”

“If you're that old, I highly doubt that your name is _Shawn_.” The hot breath on Cas's face made him look away from the ghastly specter in front of him. “What were you called when it was just you and God, Life and the Darkness? What do _they_ call you?”

A look of curiosity washed over Shawn's face, temporarily transforming it into something that was borderline pleasant. “... It was Primogenè, back before the world began.” He withdrew, his thoughts turning inward and his hobby of torturing the angel forgotten – temporarily.

 _What are you planning, Dean?_ Cas asked. _I don't know how much longer I can stall him_.

_Just give me a couple more minutes._

_I might be able to buy us one._

_That might be enough. What were the steps to teleportation, again?_

_Why? We can't get out like that – I've tried. Something about him is preventing it, and if I can't,_ you _can't._

_Just tell me the damn steps._

Cas listed them off for him, and he took special care in memorizing each one. After he felt confident that he had them down, he followed the first one; _picture yourself in the place you want to be. Will yourself to go there, and force your surroundings to obey the power of your grace. Let the cosmos carry you there on a_ _palanquin, let your grace master the space between “here” and “there”._

He gripped his hand tighter than he had before, and felt a weight enter it that he hadn't yet experienced. It was somehow familiar in its peculiarity, like the touch of an old friend that he hadn't seen in years. It was most obviously the hilt of a knife, and despite his doubts about steel hurting something older than an archangel, he followed Castiel's instruction–

And disappeared.

 


	52. Chapter 52

Shawn seemed to sense a disturbance and turned around, shaken out of his reverie. He saw the empty chair and limp ropes, and his face warped from the starstruck reverie he was in to confusion, then finally to anger. He glanced from Cas to Dean's empty chair, then back at the angel.

“What trick is this?” He asked. “What charming magic rests upon your friend that allowed him to escape me? And why did he leave you?”

Before Cas could respond, Dean's head appeared over the monster's shoulder. What could be seen of his shoulder tensed up as Dean stabbed him with some unknown weapon, and Primogenè's eyes lost all focus – again returning to that strange state of catatonic wonder.

The monster staggered forward and turned around, looking Dean up and down as he entered his view. Primogenè smiled and said “Ah, I see now. You didn't _bring_ a deity with you. You _are_ a deity.” And then he died.

But he didn't die normal.

His body erupted into pools of ink-like soup and chalk white powder, the heavier liquid falling fast to the ground while the dust lingered in the air. Almost immediately after the grotesque explosion, the knife in Dean's hand started to shake and both substances were _absorbed_ into it.

As the last of the gummy black liquid covered the mysterious blade, Dean walked toward Cas, saying “It's okay babe, you're okay. I'm gonna cut you free and then we'll go find Sam and Charlie, okay?”

Of course, Cas started to nod until the black blood around Dean's blade cleared away, then he tried to hide his fear as this new monster approached him.

The second his hands were free, Castiel's grace surged into his palm and pushed Dean backward, hard enough to knock him against the opposite wall five yards away. He tore the ropes at his feet off as if they were as insubstantial as water vapor, then stood hurriedly and backed away, keeping his eyes on Dean the entire time. From his sleeve, an angel's blade fell into the palm of his hand.

“Cas,” Dean said, clearly confused. “Babe what the hell? I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“Dean.” Castiel answered. “Put it down.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” In response, Cas just nodded toward the knife in Dean's right hand, something Dean hadn't thought to look at yet.

“Drop it. Let me know that you're in control.”

Dean was dumbstruck. He'd sworn to never touch that damned blade ever again. And yet... here it was, in his hand. The First Blade, alive with savage glee and pulsing with its own heartbeat, sitting perfectly in his palm like it was made for him. Like it was designed to usurp Cas's place.

In a rush, he dropped it on the ground and raised his hands well above his head, still staring at the evil bone-scythe. It was weird; he didn't feel the anger and the blood-lust he'd felt when he had the Blade and the Mark at the same time. Now, it wasn't rage, it wasn't insanity. It was.... _control_. It was _harmony_.

Without any visible outside force, the First Blade skittered across the room until it came to rest underneath the other angel's strangely-formal dress shoe. Even though the Blade was out of Dean's reach, though, Cas wouldn't sheath his own.

 


	53. Chapter 53

The two of them met up with Sam, Gadreel, and Charlie at the nearest actual town, one that was _obviously_ run by humans. The odd company had rented a room in a motel about an hour north of where they had separated from the two seraphs in peril, but Castiel covered the distance in a mere second now that he had his wings back.

They materialized in the center of the room, Dean wearing a pair of handcuffs that Cas's hand was firmly latched around, and they were arguing about why the _hell_ Dean had to wear goddamn _handcuffs_.

“Because, Dean, the last time you were under the power of the First Blade you killed _Cain_ , and he's quite a much better fighter than any of us _here_. I'm not going to let you out of these – at least not until we can _prove_ that you're sane.”

“D'you think I'm not?” Dean asked with such incredulousness it almost seemed sarcastic.

“That is yet to be known.”

“Guys, what the hell?” Sam asked. The conversation, and its surrounding circumstances, raised many questions for the three who were still in the dark.

Cas stared at the younger brother with a look of such intensity it caused Sam to flinch. After a short moment, the angel said “Dean used the First Blade against the leader of that town. And what's worse, it _worked_.”

“But I'm not bloodthirsty!” Dean countered, but Cas paid him no heed.

Sam sighed. “How do we know that, Dean? How do we know this isn't just the calm before the storm or something?”

Dean thought for a moment, then turned to his boyfriend. “Can't you like... angel-scan me or something? Use your mojo on me to see if there's anything bad happening.”

Cas glared at him, but said nothing. Wordlessly, he placed to fingers on Dean's forehead and closed his eyes, remaining in that position for over a minute. When he finished, his arm dropped to his side and he shook his head, sighing as he did so.

“If there's any trace of the evil of the Blade in you, it's too subtle for me to detect. Sam, maybe you should call Gabriel here and see if an archangel can find anything.” Castiel's hand was still wrapped firmly around the cuffs, but he distanced himself from Dean as much as he could. The intimate closeness that usually graced their every touch was, for now, lost.

Sam nodded and looked up at the ceiling, mouthing a wordless prayer to his beloved archangel. As Gadreel watched him, a pang of jealousy and painful longing flowered in his chest, choking his vessel and blurring his vision.

“We'll have to wait until he can get he–” Sam started to say, but a knock at the door cut him short.

Charlie sprang up and opened the door to reveal a handsome man in his late twenties, with dark hair and fair skin and a playful smile on his lips. His eyes held a shadowed intensity that she wasn't expecting, but he didn't look unkind.

Behind her, both Sam and Dean seemed to turn to stone at the presence of the newcomer. Dean's eyes, if he wasn't glaring at an archangel, probably would have set Michael ablaze.

“What do _you_ want?” Dean asked roughly. “We didn't want _you_. We wanted your brother.”

“Gabriel, Lucifer, Life, and Love are off defending the brightest star in the universe and the birthplace of the angels. I was left here to watch over the two of you until they got back.” Michael said simply. “Gabriel cannot leave that fight. If the Darkness were to overcome them, there would be no hope of silencing Rowena.”

“I guess we'll just wait until they get back then.” Dean spat, unyielding. “You can go now.”

“Dean, please. I merely wish to assist you. I neither need nor want anything in return.”

“I call BS.” Sam muttered under his breath. Everyone still heard him and Michael gave him an exasperated look.

“We really _can't_ wait until Life or Gabriel gets back to solve this, Dean. Who knows how much death you could sew by then.” Cas rumbled.

“ _There is_ nothing _wrong with me, Cas_.” Dean answered vehemently. He glanced over at the other angel, his eyes briefly drifting down to his lips before he made eye contact.

“Then my visit will be short. I only wish to help and if there is any way that I can, I will be glad to offer my service.” Even in humility, Michael's regal bearing made him seem like a king.

“No. I don't trust you and your ulterior motives. The _last_ thing I need you to do is possess me or something.” Dean jerked against Cas's hand as he spoke, but the seraph's arm was as firm as a mountain.

“I have a vessel of my own, Dean. I no longer need you.”

“Then why are you here?”

Michael looked him directly in the eye and said “Because I _like_ you, Dean. You and I are very similar, and I don't enjoy seeing those I'm fond of in duress.”

“Since when have you ever wanted to 'just help'?” Sam asked. “Back when you and Lucifer were going at each other's throats all you ever talked about was fate and destiny and all that bull. What's changed from then to now?”

Michael's eyes shifted from Dean to Sam, and the younger brother involuntarily took a step backward. He could handle Lucifer being inside of him (and Gabriel for that matter), but something about the spearhead of the archangels made him uncomfortable. Not in a fearful way, like Lucifer did, or in a pleasurable way, like Gabriel, but a startling and foreign way that he could never quite wrap his head around.

Michael glanced Sam up and down, seemingly measuring his every muscle. It took him a minute to speak, and when he did he was quieter than he was before.

“Fate.” He said simply. “Destiny. These have changed, and everyone in this room has changed accordingly. No longer are the two of you supposed to be the vessels of my brother and I. Now, your purpose is to end the Darkness. I am here to assist that.”

The pressure on Dean's hand shifted as Cas adjusted his hold; a subtle difference, but a noticeable one. In Dean's inner eye, his sensory shift that allowed him to view the true forms of angels and demons when he became one, the ever-present light of Castiel's grace focused on him.

 _You can see him, can you not?_ The angel asked secretly.

_Yeah, he standin' right in front of me._

_Are you_ looking _at him?_

 _What? What does_ that _mean?_

_Are you seeing him through your own interpretation, or are you_ _perceiving him as he truly is?_

_Babe you're not making any sense._

A note of frustration entered Cas's mental speech. _Are you seeing his intentions or are you merely supplanting them with what you've already come to expect?_

Dean shrugged, drawing a strange look from Sam and Charlie. Gadreel, who was sitting in the back corner and not willing to but in, and Michael had already deduced what was going on. To the two mortals in the room, it just looked like Dean and Cas were staring at each other angrily.

 _Look at him. Realize that not everything is as devoid of hope as it seems. You're such a_ damn _pessimist sometimes, even though in the darkest moments of your existence there's always been a little bit of light._

_Sorry, Niche. Didn't mean to piss you off._

Dean turned his focus from Cas to Michael, involuntarily squinting his eyes as the light of the archangel's aura bored down on him. Compared to regular angels like Gadreel, Michael was the sun pitted against the moon. Strangely enough though, he wasn't quite as bright as Cas. The little brother's light just seemed more... full.

As he focused, he could see the strands of thought wafting through Michael's consciousness. Memories and strategies, questions and feelings that Dean didn't think the beacon in front of him possessed, or was even _capable_ of harboring. But throughout it all, Dean could not find a single shred of maliciousness – not a single blemish in the pale light that filtered through Michael's brilliantly burning grace.

He sighed in defeat, glancing at Sam with an annoyed look on his face. Sam, taking the cue, returned the look with a glare of his own.

“Dean, you can't be serious. You're gonna let him probe you?” Sam squinted in confusion and crossed his arms over his chest.

“It's not like he's using a cattle-prod or something, Sam.” Dean answered. “Let's just get this over with so he can leave.”

Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Hope he's wearing gloves when he asks you to turn your head and cough.” He muttered as he walked out of the room, shoving his way past Michael. Charlie muttered something about getting hungry and followed him soon after.

 


	54. Chapter 54

A half hour later and Dean was lying on his back in the middle of the room, no shirt on and his pants in tatters. The floor around him was burnt severely, and the furniture that had lavishly decorated the room was now either a pile of ash, half burnt, or shattered.

Dean lay there, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide in shock. He was panting heavily and spreadeagled, like he had just came “home” from a rigorous exercise and hand collapsed where he was. Cas was in the process of picking himself up from the remains of a dresser in the corner, his trench-coat singed and smoldering.

Michael walked out of the bathroom, untouched by the apparent destruction except for some soot smudge across his left cheek. He was wiping the First Blade clean with a cloth, studious in his attention to detail.

“Well,” the archangel began. “The good news is that the Blade has no hold over you. However, there still is some residue of the Darkness inside of your soul.”

“Get it out, then.” Dean said from his position on the floor.

Michael shook his head. “Can't. It's inseparable. It's strange – the shred of Darkness in your soul is no longer malignant. It's just... there – like a balancing weight. The last time I saw something like that was in my uncle.”

“Life?” Dean asked.

Again, the holy head shifted from side to side. “Death.”

Before Dean could think much on that, Sam barged through the front door, a bag of burgers in his hand. He stopped when he saw the wreckage of the room, making Charlie run into his back. Gadreel stopped short just in time to avoid the same fate.

“What the hell?” Sam asked as he looked around the room. Charlie and Gadreel looked over – or rather, under – his shoulders into the room, gaping at the wreckage. “I thought you were going to _probe_ him, not try to blow him up!” With most people he would have pinned them against a wall and went into Giant Over-protective Little Brother mode, but with the leader of the archangels... he decided against it. Instead he moved so the others could enter the room and contented himself with glaring at Michael from across the way.

The angel furrowed his brow and looked at the younger brother. “If I wanted him to die, he would be dead. Trust me when I say that the only thing I did was examine his grace. It isn't _my_ fault that its still temperamental from being a soul.”

“You could have at least safe-guarded the room so it didn't look like Hiroshima after you were done.” Sam snapped as he waved his arm around, indicating the disaster.

“If I didn't, you wouldn't be standing inside right now, Sam. The only reason this building is still even here is because we went to great lengths to protect any humans within a mile of us.” When Sam didn't answer, Michael switched subjects. “Despite the unfortunate side-affects, I have the information you wanted. Dean is no longer under the control of the First Blade – that much should be obvious. He isn't any threat to you with it – only to anything that might cross your path.” He set the now-clean bone down on the ground and made a shooing motion toward Dean. The knife slid across the charred wood and into his hand, where Dean's fingers wrapped around it slowly. Seeing the scathing needle in Dean's hand again, Gadreel shuddered and ran a hand along his chest – the memory of old wounds itching under the surface.

“Well, that was fun.” Dean said as he sat up on the ground. “I think we'll be okay if you wanna get back to whatever you were doing before, Michael. Uh... thanks for the help.” He glanced up, but the angel was already gone.

 


	55. Chapter 55

“So... what do we do now?” Gadreel asked hesitantly. He almost sounded like he was asking for permission. “Shall we return to your home?”

“Might as well,” Dean said as he stood up from his position on the ground. “We've got nothin' better to do.”

“Or you could come with me and put an end to this whole 'Darkness' nonsense.” The new voice made everyone jump and turn toward the bathroom, where Life stood in the doorway leaning against the frame. “We're _damn_ close, and all we need is for the five of you to get your asses back to Kansas.”

“Where the hell've you been?” Sam asked. “We haven't seen you in weeks.”

“I've been busy, Samuel.” Life clipped. “You'll understand soon.” He turned toward Dean, who had finally gotten off the ground and was staring at the First Blade as he passed it from hand to hand. “I see you finally came to terms with that. You wanna take this too, or are you still too scared?” He pulled his brother's ring off of his finger and held it out toward Dean, his entire demeanor subtly insulting.

“I... I'll take it. _But_ I have questions for you.” As he spoke, Death's ring disappeared from Life's hand and appeared on Dean's finger, fitting perfectly. As it manifested, a fierce wind erupted from him and drowned out all sound, staggering those around him and creating a cloud of dust and soot from Michael's experiments. Because of this, Dean nearly missed Life say “later”.

But unfortunately for Life, Dean didn't.

As Life began to fade out of place and teleport away, Dean reached out toward him. Force unlike any Dean had every experienced erupted from his fingertips and surrounded Life, pinning him in place and preventing him from leaving.

After he was done gawking at his hand in wonder, Dean focused an angry eye on Life. “I said I have questions. Now you're gonna sit there and answer'em and quit running away like a damn four-year-old every time someone says they don't understand something.”

Life's look was enough to cause an Ice Age. If anyone looked outside, they would have seen that it was starting to do just that – large flakes of snow had started to descend through the warm mid-March air, completely uncharacteristic of the season. In a voice deceptively calm, he said “And what questions might those be, Dean?”

“First off, why the hell are you determined to give me this damn ring? It's not mine! I don't want it!” He held his hand up for all to see, the ring resting perfectly around his finger.

“It obviously _is_ yours, genius.” Life glared at him, then motioned down toward his body. “Without that little circle of silver, you wouldn't stand a chance at holding me down like this. _But_ , if you weren't capable of unlocking it's true power, you wouldn't be able to either. Even if _God_ were to put that on, He wouldn't be able to use it like you can. I can't either. Nor can Love. _Only you can, Dean. Only Death can use Death's ring_.”

“I'm not Death, though. He's dead – I killed him.”

Life rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And literally no one else in the history of the universe could have. All four of us primordial deities are destined to be usurped by a new generation; the four of you. How does Death confer his power, Dean? I'll give you a hint; _it's in his name_.”

“Wait, repeat what you just said.” Sam pointed at Life quizzically as he shifted his weight around on his feet.

“All four of us are going to be supplanted by the four of you. Have you never seen the correlations?” At their uncomprehending looks, he sighed and rubbed his temples. “You're all morons.”

“Quit playing and cut to the chase.” Dean snapped.

“There are four of you, and there are four of us. Three that usually identify as male, one as female.” He pointed at everyone in the room as he spoke, except for Gadreel. “An impressively powerful angel who happened to desperately fall in love with a mortal, and sees that man's brother as his own family. Lo and behold that man kills Death and takes over the role, while the angel, who's generally seen as “God's favorite” miraculously gets stronger and stronger as his dearest boyfriend unknowingly ascends to the throne of deification.

Then we have the brother. Enraptured by an archangel, usually compassionate but doesn't take crap from people, intelligent, and awfully crafty.” His eyes fixed on Sam during the last bit, his hand motioning back and forth between himself and the younger brother.

“Next is the girl,” he turned toward Charlie, who looked away uncomfortably. “The youngest of the group, but capable in her own right. Irregular, and fools may say unnatural in her desires, she works in harmony with the others while still usually retaining her own individuality.” He turned back to Dean, now obviously irritated. “There are more similarities, but I think you get the picture. Castiel is going to take over the role of God. _You_ are Death. Sam here will take my place, and Love will give her place to Charlie. I'll explain more when the mantle is actually _yours_. Now if you don't mind _I'll be leaving_.” His eyes started glowing dangerously bright, and everyone but Dean and Cas looked away. “It would be wise for the four of you to follow me to Kansas, unless you want Rowena and the Darkness to destroy us all?” Before anyone could answer, he disappeared in a clap of thunder and flash of light, blinding those he left behind.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

 


	56. The End

The light dissipated and everyone's eyes returned to normal, but none of them moved. The magnitude of what Life had said couldn't fully sink into their minds – that they were to replace the four most powerful beings in existence had dumbfounded them all. Slowly, Dean started shaking his head.

“I don't wanna become a god,” he said. Cas glanced at him and sighed.

“Well that's a good thing, then. Apparently that's my role.”

“You know what I mean.”

Charlie had gone pale, and Sam was quiet. Slowly though, Sam muttered “What if it's the only way? What if we can't beat the Darkness without doing it?”

“There's always another way, Sam. You know that.” Dean's brow furrowed and his voice shook a little bit, but other than that he was expressionless.

“Really, Dean? How could there be another way if they need _two Gods_ to be able to kill Rowena? What on _Earth_ could match that kind of power? And what else are we gonna do? Trap her again? Someone's bound to be as stupid as we were and unlock any door we might shove her behind eventually and then the process will start all over again.”

“Then let that be on their heads!” Dean snapped back. “Why do we have to deal with this? Why do we have to sacrifice our lives for the greater good when all we want to do is get rid of the bitch for a little while?”

Charlie piped up, her voice quiet compared to the boys but still forceful enough to garner their attention.

“Because if we don't, we die.”

 

Two hours later, after a heated argument and a broken lamp, they were standing in a field of barren, blackened dirt on which nothing grew. Almost a year ago, Death had met his end here.

Surprisingly, they were alone. Life had said he would meet them there, but as they looked around, they didn't see a single other living thing besides themselves.

“I swear to God, if this is some sort of stupid friggen joke–”

“Shut up Dean.” Life's voice came out of nowhere, a split second before he materialized before their eyes. It startled them all except for Cas, who having lived in Heaven for millennia was used to it. “I told you we would be here. And here we are.”

“We? There's only–” Sam had started to speak up, but as he did, multitudes appeared before his eyes. They all looked human, but the power that could be felt radiating off of them belied their otherworldly origins. Some they had seen before – the Archangels were there, along with a few of the gods that the boys had killed over the years. It bothered them both to see them wandering the earth once more. Every angel had been summoned out of heaven, and every demon was pulled from Hell. Anything and everything that had any shred of primordial power was there, to witness the End.

From out of the foray walked two people, both of whom Sam, Dean, and Castiel had seen before. One was Love, wearing a ceremonial-looking silver dress that accentuated her long legs and made her fade in and out of visibility. The other was Chuck, wearing torn jeans and a dirty T-shirt, over which he had a plain blue jacket. They were talking as if they knew each other, which unbeknownst to the group, they did.

“Hey guys!” Chuck said as they neared them. “Haven't heard from you in a while.”

“Chuck why the hell are you here?” Dean asked and shook his head.

“Well we're gonna kill the Darkness and I figured I should probably be there for the main event. I mean I've been trying to do it since I made the universe and it would be kinda stupid to not show up when it's about to happen.”

“Are you God?” Cas asked. He looked... disappointed.

Chucked glanced back at him with a sad look on his face. “Not for much longer.”

“About that–” Sam was going to speak, but today was not his day to have a word in.

As he began his line, the earth trembled and shook. The sun darkened and turned a violent shade of blistering red, and a fierce wind sprang up, stirring everyone's clothes and the distant trees outside of the Darkness' original blast radius.

“She's coming.” Chuck looked around within something akin to fear on his face, but with a glance from Life, his resolve returned to him. “Everyone take your positions.” He said quietly, but at His command, the various gods and angels, along with Sam, Charlie, Dean, and Cas, were forcibly moved until they were standing in a specific pattern. Although they couldn't see it from their positions, they had formed the largest, most powerful devil's trap to ever exist.

As the last body fell into place, a column of shadow and smoked slammed into the ground with all the force of a supernova at the center of the circle. From within the Darkness, a body took form. Rowena, still nothing but a literal shadow of her former self, emerged. She glanced around at the multitudes around her until her gaze fell upon Chuck – then she lunged.

But she didn't move. As the Darkness settled and sank into her body it was as if she was paralyzed. She lurched again, but twice in a row nothing happened. A third time, and still nothing. She screamed, a loud, high, awful noise and her eyes burned from black to red.

“You can't hold me forever, _Chuck_.” Rowena hissed. “I'm stronger than you. I'm stronger than you _all_.” White lines had appeared in the shape of a devil's trap as she smoked into the scene, but they were already fading.

“We don't need to, Rowena.” Chuck looked sad as he spoke. “We just need to hold you long enough for someone to kill you.”

“Who? _Who?_ ” She laughed. Who has the power to kill me? Who has the power to kill the Darkness?” The sound of the _s_ was drawn out into a low hiss, pulled thin through her teeth. It sent a shiver through everyone's spines; a collective pulse of discomfort.

Chuck's gaze landed on Dean. He remained silent for a second, then said “Dean... Death.” so quietly, it was almost a whisper. Dean himself blinked in surprise and recoiled.

 _It's always been you, Dean. You're so much more than Michael's vessel. You've always been stronger than him._ Chuck's voice entered Dean's head. _Please, help me with this. We've been waiting, fighting it for so long. We can't do it without you._

_But why me? Why not the old Death?_

Chuck glanced at him again. _Is he around to do it? You did_ kill _him, remember? It can only be you._

_You do it. You're God, apparently._

_Don't you think I've tried? We've all tried. But Life and I, we've seen this before. You've got it in you to stop her. You have the power to save the world, Dean. And_ only _you._

Dean seemed to deflate. _Fine._ He reached for that now-familiar feeling in the back of his mind and suddenly, the First Blade appeared in his hands again. It's touch was cold, but oddly welcome – made fit for his palm.

Rowena snorted. Through her, the Darkness spoke. “I gave that thing its power. I can easily take it away, too.” Her hand waved as if she was beckoning the Blade to her, but it vibrated and remained in Dean's hand.

“Can you, bitch?” He looked at her as he walked forward slowly. When his feet left the devil's trap, it faded momentarily but after a snap from God, Gadreel was standing in his place.

The distance between them narrowed. Twenty feet, ten, five.... then he was within arms reach of her.

“Take it, then.” He growled. The First Blade, almost of its own accord, lurched forward and sheathed itself in her ribcage, her shadowed heart fluttering to pieces around the sharpened edge.

Her body seized and she sank to her knees. As Dean stepped back, convulsions started to shake her cadaver as the Darkness reacted to its own power destroying itself. Shadows poured from the wound, encasing Rowena in a shield of nothingness from which the faces of strange creatures and tortured humans came erupting from, only to be pulled back into the folds of black.

Suddenly, the Darkness pulled in on itself, seemingly disappearing into Rowena's body. A split second later, a shock wave strong enough to knock the Earth off of its axis blasted her to ash and everyone in the vicinity would have been reduced to sub-atomic particles had it not been for the three god-siblings that were present.

As the wave of force exploded, a sphere of multicolored light surrounded her. Where it was closest to Life, it was greenish-gold, nearest Chuck it was brilliant white, and beside Love it was a deep, gentle purple. None of them seemed to voluntarily emit the light – rather, it looked like it was being forced out of them as the Darkness crumbled into non existence and its power was pushed into their bodies.

After a blindingly bright flash of light and a deafening boom, the field was empty. Every angel, god, and demon had vanished, either to Heaven, Hell, or their own traditional lands. Even Gadreel was gone.

Chuck was still there. Life and Love were there too, and of course, Team Free Will had stayed. But they were all lying on the ground, disheveled and confused.

Above their heads lingered three spheres of pure light; gold, purple, and white. God looked at them sadly, but his gaze didn't linger long.

“Now it's your turn, guys.” He said as the four mortals stood up. “Dean, your power is already inside of you. You've already become Death and filled your role. But you guys,” he pointed at Sam, Cas, and Charlie, “you still need to take your mantels.”

“What if we say no?” Sam asked. “I know _I've_ never wanted limitless power. I don't want to become a god.”

Life sighed and rolled his eyes. “Honestly Sam, grow up. There are literally _no_ downsides to becoming one of us, and even if there were, it's not like you'd have a choice.”

“Life, shut up.” Chuck closed his eyes and didn't bother turning toward his younger brother. “You're a terrible businessman.” His eyes reopened and he continued speaking. “He's right, though. You see, our bodies, our _strength_ , is directly tied to the Darkness. Now that it's gone, we're going to cease to exist too. The universe, though, is going to live on, and it needs someone to guide it and make sure it doesn't go to crap. That's where you come in.”

“So without us the world falls apart.” Sam stated his question as more of fact. “Great.”

“Isn't that how it's always been?” Chuck smiled meekly. “What do you say? We don't have much time left, so you might want to decide soon.”

Dean glanced over at them all and laughed. “C'mon guys, you can't just leave me here for eternity! I gotta have _someone_ I can go to the bar with!”

Sam laughed back. “Shut up, Dean.” He looked at Chuck, then at Life, and finally at Love. “Fine. We don't have to do it the way you guys did though, do we? Because no offense but you all kind of suck at your jobs.”

“Once you're me, you can be you as much as you want.” Life answered.

“One yes. What about you two?” Chuck looked at Cas and Charlie

“Can I be God?” Charlie asked. Chuck looked taken aback, but she was already laughing at her own joke. “I'm kidding. But I mean we might as well, because dying sucked and I don't wanna do it again.”

Cas was more frank with his answer. “Yes.” He stated simply. “And I agree with Sam. All three of you sucked.”

“How good or bad we did won't affect how you do, son.” Chuck answered. He was beginning to fade around the edges, and Love's dress seemed to have permanently vanished. Life was going bald, and his feet were no longer there. “Now, we each have a way of conveying our power. Death's was, obviously, death. That's why Dean took it, because he's a murderer.” Chuck smiled playfully, and Dean rolled his eyes. “And each way is pretty popular in pop culture.”

“Y'all talk to much.” Love groaned and walked up to Charlie, kissing her straight on the mouth. Charlie was surprised, but not wholly upset.

When she pulled away, Love had faded significantly faster than the other two. “True Love's Kiss. Cheesy as hell, but more powerful than anything else in the world.” She said. She winked at Charlie and kissed her forehead, but right before her lips made contact, she vanished with a sigh in the wind. The ball of purple light followed suit and flew straight into Charlie's mouth, who promplty swallowed and started choking.

Life's gaze lingered where she had been for a second, then he walked up to Sam. He pulled the taller man down to his eye height, and made straight for his lips as well, but stopped a few inches away from his face.

“I'm not gonna kiss you. You're not my type.” Instead, Life breathed out a long, aching exhale that Sam involuntarily sucked up, like he was waking up and taking a deep breath.

“The Breath of Life.” Sam said as he exhaled. “Of course.”

“Of course.” Life echoed, then he too faded into nothingness. The world was blanketed in white as Life's light trickled into Sam's nostrils.

Cas and chuck were watching, then turned to stare at each other. “The Breath of Life, True Love's Kiss, Death. What's yours?” Cas asked. His head tilted in that tell-tale way Castiel had.

“You've never heard of the Hand of God?” Chuck cracked a smile, and laid his hand on Cas's chest. The final light in the air sank back into him, and through his arm it spread into the angel's chest like warmth on a summer day.

Chuck lingered for a moment longer. “I'm not gonna fade like they did.” He said. “ _I_ can't stop existing. But I _can_ dissipate. If you ever need help, with anything, call me up and I'll see if I can help.” His voice qot quieter as he dimmed, and then suddenly, he was gone.

 


End file.
